


Plucking of Heartstrings

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Consent Issues, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Kissing in the Rain, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Kissing, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secrets, Trans Male Character, Trauma, Violins, emotion sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Vergil and Dante are back from Hell but one of them isn't adjusting to humanity and family life well. When Vergil finds a small group of musicians and joins them for their practice, he finds a connection to his childhood and tries to really give his more sensitive half a chance.You know that trope of a kid having a recital and thinking their parent isn't there to support them? This is based on that but in reverse!
Comments: 63
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

He wasn't good at the whole family thing. He could tell that from where he was. Dante was laughing, his arm thrown around Nico's shoulders. She had to half jog in order to keep up with his longer strides. Just a little bit behind and to the right were Nero and Kyrie, pinkies interlocked. He was at the back, watching them. They were all talking, fast paced and casually. There was no effort to it. When he spoke there was a lot of effort, a lot of thought going into his words, and even then he said the wrong thing half the time. He wasn't slow, but he was distant, and that allowed him to slip behind the others easily enough, allowed him to observe and learn the love language of those he cared for. 

Dante was quick and a bit violent, though his punches were never with any force and they always came with a smile and a quick line of wit. He wore a mask at all times, Vergil could see it, had seen behind it a few times, when Dante was quiet and subdued to the side, not pretending that he wasn't phased by anything for the benefit of the others. Nico was very touchy and gift giving and warm. She would talk a mile a minute and half the time it sounded like a different language to Vergil. Kyrie was also a gift giver, though her gifts were more of hospitality than weapons and she was a gifted host. She was a lot quieter than the others but she listened well and had excellent advice. Nero was smack dab i the middle of them all and he was always checking in on everyone, putting a hand on a shoulder or arm, turning his head to make sure no one got left behind. 

Vergil got left behind. It was only for a moment, because he had stopped walking. He could hear something and that something was more intriguing than his hurting himself in trying to figure out what his own love language was. He was fairly certain that he didn't have one and the only reason that he was staying with this group was so that Dante could keep an eye on him, make sure he wasn't causing any more problems. That was all he was really good at, after all. 

What he heard though, was music. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was something. He looked at the church that he had stopped in front of. He was sure that none of the humans could hear it but it was definitely of human make. Classical music, a lot of different instruments. He recognized the song as well, to the point that it brought tears to his eyes, just thinking about it. It sounded like the musty leaves at the beginning of Autumn and felt like smooth wood under his chin, like gentle fingers brushing through his hair and a word of praise in his ear. 

Nero was calling to him though, noticing him falling behind. Shoving his hands in the dark gray peacoat he left the music behind, speeding up to catch up with the rest. He caught sight of the sign though, for the Golden Rose Church, and held it against his teeth so that he wouldn't forget it. 

\---

It was hard, frustratingly hard, to get through to Vergil. He was just sitting there, cheek against his palm, scrolling through something on his phone. Sometimes it was a book, sometimes it was polishing Yamato, but it was never conversing. He didn't talk and when he did it was awkward, like he wasn't sure if what he had to say was what anyone wanted to hear. If it was towards Dante it was usually a pack of insults all shoved together into a beautifully composed sentence, but with the rest of them he was so careful that Nero could scream. Vergil and Dante had been back for over a month now and Nero felt like he still didn't know anything about his father that he didn't know from Dante. So his knowledge of the man sitting at the front desk of Devil May Cry was Dante's memories of him from when they were kids and a little bit from when they were young adults. All he knew was that they were always fighting. And that Vergil wouldn't talk to him unless he had everything perfectly planned out. 

"You're coming by on Thursday, right?" Nero asked, leaning against the desk. "Kyrie's making something new. Something about stuffing mushrooms? I don't know." 

Vergil stilled. He didn't put his phone away or hide it but he did the next best thing by turning off the screen so Nero couldn't see it. That set the hairs on Nero's neck on end. He hadn't really cared what Vergil was looking at but now he was worried. 

Vergil was silent for a moment, composing himself. "I believe I will be preoccupied on Thursday, though I do appreciate the gesture," he finally said and then squinted, eyebrows knitting together a he went over what he just said, as if hunting for mistakes in it. "Kyrie is a wonderful cook. If there was some other time?" 

"You can come over whenever you want, you know," Nero shrugged, "You don't have to wait for an invitation. Even if I'm not there, Kyrie would be happy to have you." 

Vergil opened his mouth, staring at Nero. Then he closed it and set his hands flat on the desk. "Thank you." 

And then, just to add to it, because he could see that Vergil was floundering, unable to think of the right course, Nero smiled at him. He smiled and he said, in a cool but confidant voice, the truth as he knew it. "She feels safe with you, you know?" 

Vergil tensed, obviously, his shoulders all but going up to his ears as he stared at Nero. He pushed himself up and away from the desk. "She shouldn't." 

Nero reached out though, before Vergil could escape, and grabbed him by the wrist. They didn't have a family relationship, not yet. He didn't know what it was like to have a father and Vergil didn't know what to do with a son, but Nero grabbed a hold of him anyway. He wanted to try. He wanted to have this relationship with Vergil, had wondered about him for so long. "She should. She never met you before but I knew you, when you were at your most human, and I loved you then. You can be a good man, you have proved that. You just have to allow yourself that." 

Vergil inhaled through his teeth so that it was almost a hiss. "I am trying that, even though it goes, so desperately, against my nature." 

"You and Dante have the same nature," Nero corrected, "You've just hidden it away and I understand that, really, I do. Don't forget that we're here to help." 

Vergil nodded and slipped his wrist out from Nero's hold.


	2. Chapter 2

The violin was chipped and worn and the wrong size for his hand. There was a curve to the bow as well. There was a definite sensation that these were not his and that he was just there for the moment. He wanted to be small, to escape, and he doubted he would be back. The other members of the group had been glad to see a new member but they didn't know who he was, what he had done. They were all humans and, other than Clint, they were all older than Virgil was. They had offered him smiles and Marguerite had taken him to the side. Everyone else was practicing a song together but she was the only other violinist. 

She took him by the hand and he grit his teeth, trying not to fight her, trying not to bite. She was showing him how to hold the bow and, when his hand was on it correctly it felt less foreign. It felt like it used to, like the bow that was once his. She helped him get the violin in place as well, taught him a few chords. She told him that he played well for someone knew to the instrument. 

"I used to play," he admitted, "back when I was a child. My mother taught me." 

"Oh?" Marguerite asked, heading back to the group, leading him so that they could sit next to each other and read off the same music. "She must have taught you well. You still have all that knowledge, it's just tucked away in there, buried. We'll dig it out, don't you worry." 

He wanted to. He wanted to be good at something aside from surviving and causing chaos. He had been striving for so long to be the best at everything, to be the strongest, but all he'd succeeded in was losing what made him himself. 

Reading the music was harder than the rest. He had never learned to read music but to play by ear. So, instead, he watched Marguerite's hands and made the same shapes with his own. Her hands were spotted and the skin was loose and there was a shake to her notes, but she had the skill that came from a lifetime of play, even if it was more hobby than professional. 

"So what made you stop playing?" she asked when they were on break. People were trying to talk to him, but he was nervous, didn't know what he could say that wouldn't sound mad. He had never been good at small talk. He thought of V, but V spoke in riddles half the time and was not a good role model for learning how to talk to new people. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Even after all this time it was hard to talk about. He had never really allowed himself to grieve, and he was sure that Dante hadn't either. "My parent's died when I was seven. My life since then has been a series of challenges and I had not the time nor the desire to play." 

"Playing reminds you of her," Marguerite guessed, drinking elegantly from a styrofoam cup of powdered punch. "Your mother." 

He nodded. "Yes. I took after her a great deal. My brother took after our father more, I believe, though he's more hotheaded than father ever was." 

She put her hand on his shoulder and he shrank away, more on instinct than on actual desire to do so. Honestly, he did like Marguerite but the touch felt too much like other touches, reminded him of pressure and force and things squirming under armor, piercing and pulling and turning him into something else. Dante had not once touched him since they were children, aside from with a fist, blade, or bullet. When Nero touched him it was better but it still made him feel sick and dirty inside. 

"My apologies," he said to the floor, "I am not comfortable-

"Don't apologize, Gil," she smiled at him, using a nickname for the pseudoname he'd given on the email when he asked if he could join them. "I shouldn't have assumed that you would be alright with that. I should be the one apologizing." 

He stared at her further. He couldn't remember the last time someone had apologized to him, especially not when they meant it. 

"Thank you." 

She gave him a wink, finished her punch, and they went back to their seats for the rest of the session. 

\---

As little money Dante had, Vergil had even less. Nero thought it was a bit odd, that Vergil got a weekly allowance, like he was Dante's ward instead of his brother, but it did make sense in some ways. Vergil wasn't allowed to join them on jobs yet and was definitely not allowed to go off on his own. He worked from the shop mostly, though he wasn't good on the phone or with customers in person a lot of the time. When there was a worry about the utilities being shut off though, Dante would tell him to be his charming self and handle it. Nero heard it once, a long list of insults and threats that compounded into something absolutely glorious and it must have worked since the power wasn't shut off. He just had a habit of scaring customers away or telling them to deal with their problems instead of hiring Devil May Cry to take care of their issues and that was bad for business. 

Other than a phone and some clothes, Nero had never seen Vergil buy anything for himself though. He must have been saving up for something though, or he didn't know what to spend money on. This was the first non necessity Nero had seen him with. 

He was sitting on the bench by the door, out of the way, his eyes closed, a pair of light blue noise canceling headphones smooshing his hair down. One of his hands were moving, fingers curling into the shape of chords. They were similar to the chords that Nero knew, basic ones, but he couldn't imagine Vergil playing an instrument, especially not guitar. His eyebrows would sometimes knot and he wouldn't know what to do with his hand but then he'd pick up on it again. 

For a moment Nero just watched him, but when he cleared his throat and sat next to him Vergil picked up on his presence and stopped. He paused the music on his phone and took off the headphones, staring directly at Nero. It was a bit intimidating, getting all of Vergil's attention at once but Nero swallowed it all down, had to focus on the moment, on what he needed to say. 

"There's been a pretty big demon sighting across state," he explained, "I think it's connected to the job I did last week. I'm going to ask Dante to come with me, so we can figure out where these assholes are coming from. That would leave you in charge of the shop while we're going, you cool with that?" 

Vergil's gaze flickered, went down the darkened phone. He wasn't looking at it, he was thinking, but that's where his eyes landed. "Last time you were gone it was for three days." 

"Yeah, but with travel time and investigating this might be a bit longer." Nero shrugged. 

"And you trust me enough to leave me alone that long?" 

So that was it, it wasn't that Vergil didn't know what he would have to do in that time, but that he didn't expect that Nero would let him be alone that long. Truly, Nero had no reason to trust him, he'd been watched so tightly all this time and there were still fights sometimes, between him and Dante, but he wanted to. He was different now, Nero was certain. Even from the top of the Qliphoth he was different. He was quieter, more emotional, though those emotions usually weren't positive. 

Nero stretched out his arm on the back of the bench. If Vergil was leaning against the back Nero would have been touching him. This was the closest he'd gotten since pulling him to his feet outside of the portal, when Vergil and Dante were both soaked in blood and exhausted, and even that was only for a moment before Vergil had pulled the scythe out of his back and acted unfazed. 

"We can call it a test, if you want. If the shop doesn't get burned down and we actually have another job lined up for us when we get back, maybe Dante will let you come out with us on some jobs." 

A small smile made the crows feet at the edges of Vergil's eyes deepen. "Yes, I think I would like that."


	3. Chapter 3

It was so quiet in the shop with them all gone. Dante had been so cavalier about it, about leaving Vergil all alone, as if he wasn't worried at all. Vergil could feel it though, sitting across from him at the dinner table with a pizza piled high with toppings between them. It was like fur, too warm and cloying, settling around the room, curved barbs hidden inside. That feeling had grown all night, until Vergil was sure he would choke in it.

He wasn't going to do anything that wouldn't please them, he decided that pretty much immediately. Sure, he was stronger than any of them, he could deal with their work or take on another job and deal with it and they wouldn't even know about it, but he wanted them to trust him. It felt strange, being so certain of that. He had his own plans, his own goals, but they were all so foolish, had done nothing but weaken him in body, mind, and the eyes of his family. He would do nothing that could damage his relation with them and then they would be less anxious about him.

So now he was there and he was alone. He answered the phones and he bit his tongue. He took down names and numbers, pulled up the spreadsheet that Nero had shown him and looked for availabilities and set up appointments. He called Lady and Trish and informed them of work that needed to be done quickly, before the others got back. Talking to Trish was difficult, left a horrible knot in his chest and the taste of bile on his tongue, but he didn't have to look at her while doing it so that helped immensely. He also wrote everything down on a piece of paper because he just didn't trust the spreadsheet all that much.

He cleaned too. It was many bags of garbage and trips out to the dumpster out back to get rid of all the dust and pizza boxes and beer bottles. He didn't know how Dante was allowed to get away with so much clutter. It was unseemly. The entire time he cleaned he felt like he was intruding though, even though he had been living in Devil May Cry, his room just across from Dante's, since their return.

When that was done he pulled out the rental violin and the rental bow. He practiced. He listened to the music that the group was practicing and he worked to catch up. More than the music, he listened to the violin. It was old and battered and used by so many but if he listened hard enough he could hear the soul of it. It was similar to working with a devil arm, he could use it if he listened to its soul. Devil arms contained a shard, if not all, of the soul of the demon it came from and it would teach the wielder how to use it. The violin, as well as the bow, had the touch of a soul, instead of being imbued with it. It was so much quieter.

He played late into the night. He played every moment he could. He mastered the first song and got close to the second. He worked on one until he got it at least passable, or by other's standards, close to perfect, before moving onto the next. When he grew too frustrated with his progress he would stop himself from throwing both the violin and whatever was closest to him against a wall. His breaks were filled with naps, since sleeping throughout the night had always given him nightmares, unless he could feel the other person's emotions. He couldn't feel anyone as strongly as he could Dante and if Dante felt peaceful or was having good dreams, it helped settle his own. He stopped playing to answer the phones and deal with clients and sometimes they even came in person, which was more difficult but he was working on dealing with people and he didn't scoff at their problems as much as he wanted to. He added them all to his notes and to the spreadsheet.

Then he reached one song in particular. He didn't know it by name; he didn't know any of them by name; though he recognized most of them by ear. This one, the moment it reached thirty seconds in, had him dropping his phone to the floor, his knees buckling and he was joining it, both of their cold and stiff faces cracking. The song kept playing as he gripped at his hair, his lips and eyebrows twisted, as he openly sobbed for the first time since he was a child.

A child, even younger, holding a violin under his chin, sitting on the floor of the library, his mother across from him, holding a larger violin, leading him through the motions. The music was powerful, uplifting, and it shattered him now.

The violin had burned with the rest of the house.

He had been outside, he had been forgotten, everyone else was killed, except Dante, hidden away, made safe.

Someone had come for him but it was no one that he loved.

A demon's hand on his shoulder, a word in his ear.

It was hid fault that his mother was dead. If he'd been stronger, if he'd been faster, he could have stopped those demons. He was a child though, he would have died with them. But that would have been better, to have died with her, to have at least taken down some of the monsters that threatened his family.

He knew now, that she hadn't abandoned him, that he wasn't left to the elements because she hadn't loved him as much as she said, but it was hard to wrap his heart around all the same. He'd been alone, been broken, for so long, and so many demons had promised and twisted and lied to him over the years. He had fallen for all of it, had wanted it. He thought it was about strength, but he knew it was about love. He wanted to earn their love because she had died saving Dante and he had been left by the wayside, ready to be manipulated.

\---

They were connected, Nero was right. It felt good to be right and, more so, for Dante to actually agree that it was Nero who had figured it out. There was a portal, created by some magic, that was actually moving through the world. Or perhaps it wasn't and the world was moving around it like Nico said, but it didn't matter in the end. The demons that had come through it were tough but not too tough. He'd have to take a shower and a very long rest after each of them but he wasn't getting any bones broken or anything like that. The injuries that he did have would be healed up within a few hours and it felt good to be able to see the skin stitch back together, now that he knew why it was happening.

They were able to follow the path of demons, taking little jobs along the way that were already technically the job they were on that kept them fed and fueled and then some. Nico was talking about using the extra cash to update the van a bit but Nero had his mind on some sort of webdesign class so they could get an actual website and thus, more jobs in the future. Working word of mouth and outdated newspaper ads wasn't exactly bringing in the money, though they were doing better now that they'd taken care of the Qliphoth, enough news agencies catching footage of the van on its way to chaos, than they ever had before.

In the end it wasn't even some big boss, coven, or demon lord that was creating the portals and letting demons in. It was just a rock, taken from Hell and then messed with until it opened itself up that had been kicked around on the surface. They found it because Nico drove over it in the road and one of the wheels got sucked into Hell. Dante and Nero had both had to get out and push to get it back on the road and then it was a quick jab with the red queen to break it. It was a pretty cool looking rock and now it sat in two pieces in a little box on a shelf of the van. He could already see Nico's lips moving, her eyes dancing along imaginary weapon plans instead of the road, as she tried to figure out what to make out of it.

"Alright, any bets on if we have a shop to go back to?" Dante mused, smirking. His hands were behind his head, cradling it against the vibrating window, and his ankles were crossed, feet on a workbench that was nailed to the floor.

"How about if there's a town left?" Nico joked, "You think there's gonna be a tower of flesh or Hell or tree or something else out there?"

"The town's going to fine." Nero glared at Nico before turning that look to Dante. "And the shop is going to be fine."

"Sorry kid but you don't know your old man like I do. Guy's just waiting for his chance to show us what he can do in the worst of ways."

"And you don't know your brother all that well either! You haven't seen how much he's changed? You live with the guy, how could you have not noticed?"

Dante opened one eye, looking at Nero through the bangs that had fallen out from his ponytail. "He may have changed but that doesn't mean it'll stick. There's no beating an addiction for him."

"All I know is that the dude creeps me out," Nico added, lighting a cigarette. "Not too bad, mind you, but all I can think about are my daddy's notes when I'm around him. All the things he'd learned about Nelo Angelo, what he was trying to make. He was addicted to power too and look where it got him? Phoooocrsh!" She mimicked an explosion with her hands before grabbing the wheel and dragging them back to their side of the road.

"Nelo Angelo?" Nero asked, face softening as he remembered the Proto Angelos he'd fought before The Order, the one's he'd fought with V, how V's lip and hand had trembled as he was filled with rage at them, more than he had at any other demon they'd fought. "What's that got to do with Vergil?"

Dante exhaled a long winded sigh. "Come back here kiddo, time for me to tell you a bedtime story."


	4. Chapter 4

The van was loud enough that, as it crashed into a parking spot in front of the shop Vergil still had enough time to head upstairs to tuck away his gear in his bedroom before they even got inside. Could have been the honking from three blocks away more than the parking but it was a good warning regardless. 

He was almost back down the stairs, wiping off some half imagined dust from his sleeves, when the trio came in through the front doors. Nero and Nico were on either side of Dante, who had his arms outstretched like a drunk around their shoulders. They were laughing about something or other, Nico's head thrown back as she cackled and Nero's thrown forward, face covered by the hand that wasn't wrapped around Dante's waist. Some, inside joke, probably, something that Vergil would never understand. 

"I take it you were successful then?" he asked, leaning against the wall to watch them. He found himself smiling, a small personal one, as if he could find some joy in what they were laughing about. 

Dante stopped laughing. It was like a valve had been turned. He stood up straight, letting go of the other two, and looked around. He squinted. Vergil pulled himself tighter against the wall. He was being judged, even without being looked at. Dante was looking for anything wrong, anything that showed that Vergil was as much of a problem as he'd always supposed. He wanted to see Vergil step back into his old ways. 

"What happened here?" Dante asked, all seriousness all of a sudden. He walked across the floor, from the entrance to the desk and past it, to the wall where a few trophies hung. He slid his finger over the top of it before turning his finger around and inspecting it. "Did you dust the shop?" 

There was a note to Dante's voice, sounded like he was being scolded. He didn't know what to do with that. He had cleaned the shop, that wasn't an issue, that couldn't have been a problem. He didn't even throw out anything that was important. His instinct was to hide, to pull back around the corner, because something in Dante's voice sounded like father's when he was disappointed but twisted by time and the sound of other people berating him for not being good enough over the years. 

Instead he stood up, taller, and took a few steps forward, only stopping when he was a few feet away from Dante, their usual fighting positions. He did not summon Yamato from his room though, let her sleep, knowing that if Dante wanted him to fight, he wouldn't be the one to instigate it. He didn't want Nero to have to stop them. 

"Is there a problem with that?" 

Dante's serious demeanor broke and he was laughing again, pushing his hair out of his face. "Lighten up, will ya? I was just yanking your chain!" 

He deflated. His fists relaxed. Dante left, wandering around the shop, yelling when he saw the counters in the bathroom since he hadn't seen those in months. Nero walked up to him but there was a nervousness to him that Vergil hadn't seen before. He looked like he was hiding something, like he was guilty, but he didn't bring that up. He looked like he wanted to reach out to him, but he didn't do that either. 

"How did it go?" Vergil asked, trying to be conversational. 

"Weird." Nero shrugged. "The big bad was a rock. How was holding down the fort?" 

Vergil's attention went to Nico, who had gone to sit on the desk, pushing things out of her way so she could find a place to settle around all of the items that Dante considered essential to keep in the way. 

"Got a few jobs. There's a big one that I had scheduled for next week. I gave the more immediate ones to Lady and Trish." 

"Really?" Nero's eyebrows shot up. 

"Aw shit!" Nico drew their attention, pulling up the notepad that Vergil had been using the past couple days. "We got a full on schedule here! Papa Bear did some work!" 

Vergil ran a hand up his hair in the back, looking down. The nickname was strange. Yes, he was a father but he didn't feel like one. It still didn't feel real to him, even when he was standing next to his son. He had been there for every part of the pregnancy, of course, but that was before so many things had happened and he'd changed so much. He wondered, distantly, how differently things would have gone if he'd just kept Nero. 

"I put it in the computer too," he supplemented, feeling more awkward, more like he was being studied. "I didn't cause trouble. I had no cause to leave the shop or cause any mayhem. It was quite boring, truly."

Nero nodded, chewing on his lip. "Dante was expecting the shop to be completely leveled by the time we got back." 

That felt like a sword through the heart. He tried not to show it, though Nero looked distressed, like he was about to say something else, so he knew that he failed. He was a disappointment. Even when he was trying, even though he had done good work here, there was still the expectation that he'd ruin everything. 

"Of course he did. Perhaps I should have, just to live up to his expectations."

"Don't joke about that," Nero said. His voice was quiet, his hands moving like he didn't know what to do with them. The next part was grumbled, almost impossible to hear. "I'm proud of you, you know?" 

That was wrong. He was the one that was supposed to be proud of his son. It was strange, for a child to tell the father that they were proud of them. But it felt so good all the same. He hadn't had someone proud of him, not truly, since he was a child. Any other that told him they were proud of him did so in a damning way, using his emotions, his pesky humanity, against him. It felt good. It felt powerful. He didn't know what to do with it but it made him want to do more, wanted to keep making Nero proud. 

"Nero..." He didn't know where the thought was going, what to say next. He wanted to say something though. 

Luckily, Nico was there to save him. She swooped over, her boot squeaking as she tried to slide across the tile with her arms spread wide. When she reached them one arm wrapped around Nero and pulled him close, just about a headlock before he pulled himself out. 

"We're going to Tito's for pizza tonight!" she stated, "I'm getting anchovies and onions and pineapple and you are going to hate being in the van with me for the next few days!" 

Nero waved her off, making a disgusted face. "Extra cheese?" 

"You know it!" 

"You're lactose intolerant." 

"You know it!" She turned her attention to Vergil and forced herself to be more serious. People kept doing that around him. He knew he was a serious man in his own right but they didn't have to stand at attention before him because of it. "Versuth and verily my good liege would you do us the honor of partaking of sup?"

He blinked at her. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to tell her that what she had just said was complete jibberish or not. 

"It would be my pleasure to join you for dinner." 

"It's going to be painful," Nero argued, "and smelly for all of us. If you want to bow out, there'll be no hurt feelings." 

Vergil didn't even think about it. He wanted to spend time with people, for once he found that he really truly did. He wanted to spend time with Nero, specifically, but with the rest of this strange little family would also be good. He was curious about Nico's taste in pizza and masochism as well. 

"I want to come. Trust me." 

\---

It was a good feeling even if it hurt, every time they spent time with Vergil. He smiled though they were small and he sometimes hid them, especially from Dante, but it was like he was always observing instead of being a part of the group. His face, when he watched Dante and Nico go to town on a pizza covered in the most appalling of toppings was pretty much priceless though. Kyrie joined them and she sat next to Nero, splitting a pepperoni with him. If they could keep it away from Dante they'd have leftovers. Vergil wasn't eating anything though, technically he and Dante didn't need to eat, they fed off energy or something extremely convoluted but it just did more to other him from the group, to put him on the outside watching them. When he came over to Nero and Kyrie's home he ate but that was more out of consideration for Kyrie's cooking than anything else and he even said that she was getting better at it. 

"So what were you even up to the past week?" Kyrie asked, wiping at her mouth. 

Vergil looked at her and then he coughed and he ran his hand through his hair. It struck Nero as wrong, as if it were some kind of tell. Nero had seen the shop and he was fairly certain that Vergil hadn't left it at any point so what was there to be so concerned about? Dante must have realized that Vergil was acting off as well because his laughter faded away and he was watching Vergil, waiting for his response. 

"I made the place almost hospitable," Vergil explained, "and I tried out some hobbies." 

"Some hobbies," Dante rolled his eyes, pausing in the middle of the process of picking olives off his slice and throwing them at Nico. "Like what? Don't tell me you're playing that old arcade game in the back." 

"You've got an arcade machine?" Nico snorted. 

"Yeah, not like you'll ever beat my high score though!" 

"Oh, you wanna bet?" 

"I'd like to see you try, little lady!" 

"You are so on, old man!" 

The two of them got loud again, talking over one another, and it seemed like the topic had shifted away from Vergil, much to his enjoyment. That small smile came back as he watched Dante and Nico brag to one another and the attention was off him. 

Kyrie was quiet though as she scooted closer to him. "So what sort of hobbies are you trying?" 

Vergil was back to being uncomfortable. Any time Dante told a story about them working together he would be confident, leaning back and correcting all of Dante's blubbers, especially since they always put Vergil in the spotlight a bit better. But here he was acting like he didn't want to talk about himself, as if what he was doing in his off time was a paragon sin. 

"It's not important," he whispered. He actually whispered. Nero was certain that it would have been a growl if it was anyone else but Vergil was so much softer around Kyrie than he was the rest of them. He was extremely human around her and Nero didn't know why. "I've just been getting into music." 

Kyrie must have recognized his unease about it. She spoke quieter too. Nico and Dante were too busy arguing and now starting a pizza eating contest to pay attention to them. Nero had his eyes on them but his ears on Vergil and Kyrie. He wanted to know. 

"Classical mostly." 

"That's lovely. I used to sing with The Order. I've tried a few churches out here but I haven't found any I like yet." 

"I've heard." 

"You have?" 

Vergil nodded, though it was small and there was a bit more sorrow in his expression than Nero could ignore. He was also, quite positively, staring directly at Nero's hand. The one that he'd ripped off. The one that had held Yamato. 

"We'll have to try to catch a show sometime. Just the two of us." 

Vergil's attention was on her again and that smile was back, a little bit bigger this time. "Of course, I would greatly enjoy that." His eyes flicked back up to Nero, "Why just the two of us?" 

"Nero hates my singing. Really, unless it's some punk band I've never heard of he won't give it a try." 

"That's not true," Vergil leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Nero could see her smile growing. He had no idea what Vergil was saying but he could feel his ears start to burn, turning bright red.


	5. Chapter 5

Vergil didn't get a lot of phone calls, so when his cellphone started to ring he didn't pay it any attention. He picked up the phone at the desk, but no one was there, before he realized that it was related to the vibration in his pocket. It read Gunther Marsden, the leader of their little music group at the church. He'd gotten a few texts from him, usually for dietary concerns and if he was coming to their next meeting. Vergil hadn't missed a single one and he didn't intend to. He answered the phone. 

"Hey Gilver, Gunther here, how are you?" a fake pleasantry, the kind of greeting that was trained in instead of actually honest. There was a smile to his voice but that sounded forced as well. 

Vergil looked around the lobby. He was alone, Nero and Nico were off on a job and Dante was taking a long afternoon nap, having just gotten back from some children's birthday party that the parents needed a bodyguard for, expecting some trouble that seemed to have actually occurred if the stink of blood and sweat that Dante brought back with him was an indication. 

"I'm well enough. How are you doing?" 

"Not great. Look, Gilver, I know you're not a big fan of small talk and neither am I so I'm going to cut straight to the point. There's been an accident." 

Vergil took a long inhale through his nose. His heckles immediately rose and his nails sharpened, dancing on the desk. "What sort of accident?"

"Nothing too major." Gunther must have recognized Vergil's reaction from voice alone. "Marguerite just had a bit of a fall is all. She's fine, mostly, no need to worry about her, she's a strong woman, nothing's going to take her down." 

That wasn't true. Marguerite was human and she was old. Vergil liked her a lot, out of all of them she had been the one he'd gotten closest to. She was the only other violinist there too so they had more in common than the rest. She was so patient with him and she seemed to understand him when he stumbled through a conversation. 

"The issue is that she broke her wrist. She's not going to be able to play for a while," Gunther continued. "That's bad news for us. I didn't know if I should tell you this before, the whole group wasn't sure about it since you're so new, we didn't want to overwhelm you, but we've got a recital coming up. It was going to be our biggest show so far, but with Marguerite unable to play, we don't know if we can continue as planned." 

"Do you think I'm ready for a show?" Vergil asked. His chest felt tight. He wasn't ready. He'd only just gotten back into playing a little over a month ago. And he'd have to play in front of a crowd if he did this, he didn't know if he could handle that. It was already so shameful that he was playing again, that he was doing something that he still considered childish. 

"Honestly? I don't know. You're still very new but I've never seen someone pick up a song as quickly as you do. When you first came to us you were extremely rusty, but now you're close to on par with Marguerite. I think you could do it. It would be a lot of work but I really think you could do it." 

Vergil's hands were still, his heart felt still and slow. He felt weird, like he was being complimented but also like he was being overwhelmed. He didn't know if he could do this. He didn't know if he wanted to either. 

"You won't have relearn too much. Most of the parts would be the same. She had a solo coming up for the Rachmaninov song, but we can cut that out of the program, replace it with something else-

"No!" Vergil surprised himself with his adamance for it, with how loudly he proclaimed. "No, I can do it. I've been practicing the backing for it, I can switch my attention to the lead."

"That's a lot of work, Gilver, are you sure?" 

Vergil nodded, even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "Yes, I am certain." 

"We don't have that much time." 

"I know." 

Gunther gave him the rest of the details, when and where the recital would be and there would be a few more meetings than usual before the recital. He added the information to his notepad.

\---

He was exhausted and covered in guts and his muscles ached. Nico had wrapped his wounds u and they were healing but they were still burning a bit. He couldn't go home, not until all the wounds were healed up completely. He knew that Kyrie was fine with what he was doing, that she knew and gave her blessing for his demon hunting, but she didn't need to see him hurt like this. She didn't need to worry about him. 

He stumbled getting out of the van though and he hissed as his ankle threatened to collapse under his weight. Nico was making all sorts of sounds, little quiet shushes, as she rushed around the side of the van over to him, grabbing onto him by the jacket and hoisting him up. She was getting strong, she'd always been strong but he was half convinced that she could carry him now. 

He just needed to sit down, eat something, take a shower, then he'd be alright. 

Vergil was sitting at the front desk, head in his hands, breathing, when they entered the room. He cleared his throat, wiped his hair and his emotions back from his back, and sat upright, looking forward as if to greet customers but, when he saw Nero and Nico in the doorway his facade fell to the side. He got up from his seat and was on them in a moment, pulling them to the side and setting Nero down on the front bench. 

"Your info was weak old man," Nero winced. 

"I only told you what I knew from the client." Vergil ignored the 'old', ignored the joking anger that Nero gave him, as he pulled the bandage from his cheek. His touch was so delicate but Nero hissed all the same. It hurt like a bitch even when Vergil touched the skin near the wounds. "If I had known it was faulty I would have sent Dante along with you." 

Nico left them for the kitchen. 

"Why aren't you healed?" 

"I'm not like you," Nero explained, "You and Dante, you heal up no problem, I'm too human for that. I need to eat and sleep and do human things to heal up. It's still a lot faster than a human but it sucks all the same." 

Vergil's eyes drifted, his attention going down to Nero's arm. 

"I was in a coma, after you ripped off my arm," Nero explained and Vergil's eyes snapped back up to his. "I was out of it for two weeks. And then I was told I'd have to get a prosthetic if I wanted to ever appear normal again. The doctor's wanted to keep me because my blood wasn't human enough, wanted to run tests, but it was the end of the world and they couldn't. If I never DTed I would never have grown my arm back." 

Vergil pulled away from him as if he'd been burned, turning on his heel. He stalked across the floor, back towards the desk. "I've already apologized for what I did but I am sorry. I was hardly in control of myself, all I could think of was that something was missing and I needed it back. My mind. It was just pain and need and anger. I didn't know what I was doing."

Nero felt bad. His guilt fell into his stomach and he bit at his lip. He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have brought it up. It was as much a painful memory for him as it was for Vergil. But he couldn't stop, he couldn't let it sit. 

"It's because of who you were before, right? V told me that you were defeated, over and over again, that you were falling apart. You couldn't be yourself or really think for yourself because of Mundus." 

"You know that name?" Vergil had folded over, his hands on the desk. He was facing away from Nero. 

"Dante told me about Mundus, what he thinks happened to you on Mallet Island. He told me about Nelo Angelo." 

The lighting dimmed. It was just dark, as if the clouds had covered the sun. The room felt cold. Nero felt alone, even though Vergil was right there in front of him. Nico came in through the doorway with some reheated pizza, saw the situation, and went right back into the kitchen. There was something wrong here. Nero had felt a bit of Dante's emotions before but never all that clearly, and they were nothing like this. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." 

"No," Vergil curled his fingers into a fist. His back was bowed and there was a shiver through it, though Nero didn't know if that was anger or tears. He assumed it was a bit of both but there was no way that he was going to get up to see. "You have every right to know. Dante didn't have any right to tell you though. He only knows his side of things, after all." 

"Will you tell me your side?" 

Vergil straightened up, rolling his back. He still wasn't looking at Nero. "Not now. Perhaps someday."


	6. Chapter 6

He was an adult man, half demon, he was supposed to be responsible and respected. Still, he got a bit of a thrill sneaking out of the shop, like a teenager going to a party. He'd seen a few movies about that happening with Dante and Lady, and they tended to always go poorly, but so far, Vergil hadn't been caught doing it. He couldn't just teleport to where he needed to go, opening a portal left too much of an energy signature and Dante would know immediately. 

Still, it felt bad to do something like that. He was trying to gain Dante's trust, was trying to prove that he wasn't up to something nefarious. The fact that it hadn't worked so far though, that nothing he'd done had been good enough, made him not want to bother with it any further. He would though, for Nero, because Nero was, at least, on his side. He showed that he cared, not just for Vergil's safety but for his attempts at being a better man. 

He was halfway across the lobby, sneaking out for the night, certain that Dante was taking a nap or doing whatever he did after the shop was closed, when he heard his brother clear his throat. Vergil froze, bag slung over his shoulder, before turning slowly, seeing Dante leaning against the door frame. 

"So, what's all this then?" Dante asked, already the warning of a threat under his breath. "I heard you were no longer going to the kid's place for Thursday night dinner, where are you off to?" 

Vergil's mind froze as much as his body. He didn't know what he could say that would work, what Dante would believe. He definitely wouldn't believe the truth and, if he did, there was no way that Vergil would live it down. What a childish thing he'd been doing, Dante would never understand why he'd suddenly gained an interest in it. 

"Does it even matter?" Vergil shrugged. While he was quiet, there was a bit of a bite to his words. "I'm not doing anything that you'd have to stop, if that's what you're worried about." 

"Nothing I have to stop?" Dante left the doorway to come closer to him. He wanted to get away, wanted to dash out the door. Dante smelled like a fight waiting to happen. "Vergil, as much as it may seem contrary, I do care about you. I'm not keeping you a prisoner here, I just want to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't do something you regret." 

Vergil tried to breathe. He knew that. He knew that Dante cared. He knew that Dante had his best interests in mind. But he was so bullheaded, all of the time, and he made Vergil want to scream and fight sometimes. He was just so good, all the time, any mistakes he made were just swept under the rug. Vergil though, any time he did something it was held under scrutiny, it was treated like some cardinal sin, it was looked through as if he was hiding the plans for war within it. 

"Something I'd regret or something you would?" he ended up hissing, "I did nothing to disappoint you while you were away yet you came back looking for anything you could hold against me. Dante. It matters not what I say I'm doing, you will assume the worse of me." 

"Can you blame me?"

"No." Vergil shook his head head. "No, I can't, but I also can't have you stopping me."

Dante sighed, shoulders sagging. "I can't allow that. Vergil, I thought we were getting closer again, I thought we were going to be a family." 

Vergil turned away from him, turned towards the door. The mood had soured but there was less of that violent itch in the air. "I don't know much of normal families, but I doubt they treat their members like this. Nothing I do will make you believe me."

Dante shrugged. Vergil didn't realize when he'd drawn so close. "So it looks like we're at an impasse. Either you tell me what you're up to or you stay here." 

"We know how this ends," Vergil sighed, stretching his fingers as Yamato appeared in his grip. "I don't want to fight you."

It was strange but he really didn't want to fight Dante. This felt like such a small thing, it shouldn't have mattered. If Dante would just believe him he wouldn't have to do this. He didn't want to hurt Devil May Cry, it had become his home, and he didn't want to hurt Dante but there had been a sour smell in the building lately, this growing anxiety that was tightening their relationship and this was the catalyst. Fighting would make it worse, or it would make it better, depending on the winner. 

Dante reached up over his shoulder as if there was a sword strapped to his back and pulled Force Edge out of wherever it hid when they weren't in battle. "If I win you tell me everything." 

Vergil drew Yamato, turning to face Dante. "If you can catch me." 

"What's that meant to mean?" 

It meant that he didn't want to fight Dante, so he wouldn't. It meant that he wasn't going to tell Dante what he was up to, not ever. 

Vergil drew Yamato and with two slices there was a portal for him. Dante's eyes were wide , his teeth grit, and he ran forward. He was going to try to stop Vergil. He couldn't be fast enough. 

Vergil stepped through and the cuts healed behind him. Everything smelled of baby powder and holy cleanliness. He was back in the church, just a few minutes before the rest of the group would arrive. Dante wouldn't be able to find him. His ears burned and so did his eyes and his throat was so tight that he couldn't speak. He sheathed Yamato and looked around the room, not where they all met up but close to it. 

He had to get a grip on himself before he joined them. 

He had to figure out what to do before he went home. 

\---

Kyrie still had no idea how to portion food. It was obvious that she was used to cooking for the orphanage, but she only did that once a week now. Most of what she did was psychiatry and helping pairing children with families, and checking for anything that wasn't quite human about them. She hadn't found any demonic presences among the kids yet but Nero knew what she was looking for all the same. He felt a bit guilty about it, really, but there had been no way that she could have known when they were kids that Nero wasn't like all of the others.

What that meant now though was that she had made far too much puttanesca but the pair of them to ever eat. Sure, he could have left overs and he could share them with Nico, but there was still a lot of it. 

He knew that Vergil didn't need to eat but he could also store a lot of food away without noticing if the conversation was good and it was a good way of taking care of it without Kyrie's feelings getting hurt from food being thrown away. 

Vergil wasn't there though. He hadn't come in a while and Nero was certain that he wasn't going to come again. The food tasted more bland without the light conversation. He missed seeing the glint in his father's eyes, the slight smile that made his dimples appear, the way that he spoke. Sure, he saw Vergil at Devil May Cry often enough but it was different. Whenever Dante was around Vergil's emotions were held closer to his chest, he was less soft, there as a slight nervousness about him that came from years of expecting death from someone, even though there was no sign that that would happen. 

Nero missed him. He'd been without a father for so many years, he always knew that, if he were to find one he would become emotionally invested, but he didn't think he'd ever miss him so much, that he'd grow so attached so quickly. 

His phone rang and Kyrie gave him a soft smile. They had decided early on that phones weren't allowed at the table but with both of their jobs being so open to emergencies that rule had slowly been forgotten. He got up though before pulling it out of his pocket and was almost out of the room before he answered it. 

"Devil May Cry, this is Nero." 

"Vergil's gone." 

Everything was gone with those two words, any thoughts, even subconscious, were cleared from his mind. "What was that?" 

Dante cleared his throat. "We had an argument, nothing major, the same kind of thing as always. Guy seemed ready for a fight, I told him that if I won he had to tell me everything, but he just cut a portal and left." 

Nero sighed, rolling his new wrist. The nothing that was in his head was replaced with the certain type of frustration that only Dante could give him. "Are you serious? You know how he is, he's you're brother! You can't just demand he be honest with you!" 

"I know him better than you, kid. He doesn't run fro fights. Whatever he's hiding, it's big." 

"Or it's personal. Seriously, Dante, don't you ever think before you talk?" 

"I do, in fact. Sheesh, I was just calling to see if you'd help me hunt him down." 

Nero turned to find Kyrie leaning against the wall that separated the living room from the dining room. She was watching him, her arms crossed, her expression that of friendly support. She was waiting for him to say that he was going to have to leave in the middle of dinner again. She was a saint, so willing to wait for him. 

"Of course I'll help. But you better hope I find him first. I don't want to have to put you back together if he blows you up. I'll be by the shop in an hour." He hung up and sighed. "I have to go." 

"I'd say, it sounded pretty serious," Kyrie came a bit closer, "What's going on?"

Nero shrugged. "Dante pulled the same bullshit he always does and Vergil went off on his own. Dante thinks he's going to be dangerous to the public or something so I have to go help find him."

Kyrie looked down, expression serious. "Can I come?" 

He walked over to her, putting his hands on her exposed shoulders. "This is Vergil we're talking about. He could be dangerous."

She shook her head. "Not to me. He wouldn't dare hurt me." 

That was true. Vergil loved Kyrie. Everyone who met her did. "You're right. Yeah, yeah, you can come with."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the silence, I had a real bad brain time and I am posting too many things, overworking myself while unemployed and it's really stressful and bad for me.

The doors opened and the other players came in. He smiled. He tried to be conversational, he tried to be there. His mind though, wasn't in it. His playing was terrible. He couldn't get into it. During their break Gunther made him jump by putting a hand on the small of his back and leading him away from the rest of the group. They didn't go far, just out of earshot, but that hand on his back felt hot, too much, and he liked Gunther, didn't want to insult him, but didn't want to be touched by him. He didn't want to be touched by anyone. 

"Hey, you okay?" Gunther asked, his voice quiet even though there was no way the others could hear him. "You seem a bit off tonight." 

"I'm fine," Vergil shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it. Marguerite was the only one he'd told much about himself to, he liked his privacy, he didn't want them to judge him on small talk.

"You're not. I've never heard you play like that. And I've never seen you in the church before we get here, usually you hang back like you want us to show up first. Are things okay at home?" 

Vergil sighed. Yes, he was a bit distracted. Yes, he couldn't get into the mood of playing. He wasn't showing that he was the right choice for Marguerite's replacement. "Not really, no. I live with my brother and he... well, he lets my past mistakes cloud his judgment of me. I have done my best to placate him, to show him that I have changed and won't repeat such atrocities, but he will not believe me."

"You two have a fight?" Gunther pressed and Vergil could see the way that he swerved, trying to be sneaky, as he looked Vergil over for damage. 

"Not in the way he would like. I haven't exactly been honest with him, I've never told him about the group. He thinks I'm off causing problems." He felt stupid, talking about this, making his problems known. It was childish, but so was his desire to play violin. It wasn't something he should be wasting his time with. "Instead of falling for his bait I left, came here. It has probably caused even worse problems." 

"That's fair, you are an adult, after all, you don't deserve to have to deal with someone ruling over you. Older brother, I'm assuming?" 

"We're twins, actually. I'm the older." 

"Probably more worried than trying to control then. If he'd been the elder and had always been like this I'd be a bit more concerned. Still, it's not unheard of for a little brother to try to take up all of the elder's time. Is it safe at home?" 

Gunther was worried that he was being abused. Vergil looked him over and he understood. Gunther had been in this position before, probably not with someone as old as Vergil but still. And Vergil was flighty, jumpy, he must have given off a strong impression of it. 

"No. My past hasn't been great but my brother is trying, he really is, to give me a sense of normalcy, to let me heal. If you see me flinch it's for wounds older than my relationship with him."

"I see." Gunther didn't. He was confused but he was intelligent enough to know when to leave things alone. "Are you going home after practice?"

"I don't know yet." No. He didn't want to. He didn't want to deal with the fallout. He was certain that he wouldn't be able to get away again, not until he told Dante everything. He was a proud man, after everything that had happened he still had his pride. He didn't want that to fall. 

Gunther rolled his shoulders. He did that whenever he was about to start practice. It was his 'getting ready for an announcement' tic. He was a small balding man with thick glasses and a bit of a pudge but the movement made him a bit broader and imposing. 

"I was going to visit Marguerite after practice, see how she's doing. You can join me, if you wish?" 

He'd never gone to a friend's home before, had never been invited to. Nero and Kyrie's didn't count, that was family. He wanted to see her though, wanted to make sure that she was alright. He nodded. He would love to visit her. 

Gunther smiled, a different kind of smile than what he normally gave Vergil or any of the other players. There was a bit of a sparkle to it. Vergil liked it and loathed it in equal amounts. 

He clapped his hands together and rubbed them a few times. "Well then, I believe break time is over," he raised his voice so the other's could hear him, "let's get back to it!" 

His hand went back to the small of Vergil's back and he led him over to his violin. He leaned in, breath slightly rank as he drew close to Vergil's ear, having to get on tip toes to reach. "You   
know, Gilver, if there's anything you ever need to tell me, I'm a good ear. I'll listen." 

"Thank you," Vergil mouthed in response as Gunther returned to his cello. He felt oddly dirty, like he was too exposed and his clothes were too big for him, even though they fit him to a t. He was just a bit too warm and he felt like too many eyes were on him. He liked Gunther, he was a good man, but now he felt odd about him and wondered if he'd made a mistake in agreeing to accompany him. 

\---

They'd gotten to Devil May Cry in a rush before but never as fast as they did then. Nero was lucky that Nico had holed up in their garage to do some simple repairs on the van. It was definitely the most either of them had ever heard Kyrie swear though, sitting in the front with her seat belt on and her knuckles white on the door handle. She got out first too, when they arrived, half parked on the sidewalk, running into the building. 

Nero was right behind her and Nico was behind him. Dante was at his desk in the lobby, twirling Ebony and Ivory, and both Lady and Trish were at his desk, arguing about what they were going to do. Lady had a soft voice, most of the time, but now it was rough and aggressive as she readjusted Kalina-Anne II on her back and demanded that they get to the bottom of this fast, regardless of casualties. Trish was, surprisingly, a lot more level headed, suggesting that Vergil be talked down, they'd kill whoever he was working with but he could be rationed with; he has changed since she first met him. 

Both of them were wrong. Dante was nervous, looked a wreck, his eyes red rimmed and the irises a bit too blue. He only twirled his twin guns when he needed his mind taken off something and his leg was bouncing with adrenaline. He was trying to look calm and laid back, like nothing affected him, but the room felt a moment away from igniting and Nero could see that he was about to break apart in worry. 

"We're not killing Vergil," Nero interrupted, "We're not even going to fight him. What caused him to run off?" 

Dante set the guns down, sitting up a bit straighter. Lady and Trish turned and looked at the newcomers. Dante blanched, looking even more uncomfortable, more nervous. He got up from the desk and around to them. He didn't know what to do with his hands. 

"You know how he hasn't come by for dinner anymore? He's been sneaking out, going somewhere. I caught him at it. I asked him about it. He got all defensive and, instead of talking about it he teleported away." 

Nero crossed his arms, tilted his head. "That's all that happened? You didn't press him or fight him or anything?" 

Kyrie came up to them, standing by his side. "Dante. You know him. You can't just attack him for information; that's not how people work." 

"I didn't-" he raised his voice, put up his hands, and backed down, "I may have gotten ready for a fight. I may have accused him of doing some things but you know what he's done, he might do that again." 

"You assumed he was messing up?" Nero raised his voice too, got closer, crowded against Dante's chest. "You have been looking for some excuse for months to go against him. You told me about Nelo Angelo because you wanted me aware of the kinds of consequences that come from his mistakes! He's been doing everything he can to appease you and you still act like he's the villain. You're supposed to be his brother, but you're acting like a prison warden, waiting for him to slip up!"

"He's giving me every reason to!" Dante grit his teeth, balled his fists. 

Nico didn't say anything as she moved around the room, going over to the desk.

"Yeah, fine, he's done some terrible things, he's killed people, what he did with the building thing was awful, but he paid for that! What happened to him with Mundus, you attacking him, him being alone and wandering around while his body fell apart ever since, that was his penance. I don't blame him, not really, for the Qliphoth, or for what he did to me. He was desperate and alone. Letting him be part of a family, loving him, that's what he needed and you never understood that."

"I don't know what to do, alright?" Dante screamed and everyone, everything, in the building stilled. He just stood there, all tension, and then his shoulders fell and he was shuddering. He wasn't crying, but he was close, Nero could see that. He'd never seen Dante cry. He was pretty sure he didn't cry. "Ever since we got separated the first time, he's always been alone. He's never needed me. And whenever we found each other there was something wrong, some reason that he couldn't be my brother. I need him. I need him so badly but I don't know what to do with him when he's here. It took 23 years for us to find each other again. If something happens and he goes against me again, I can't stand another 20some years of that hole." 

Nero put a hand out, put it on his shoulder. His own anger was fading, replaced with concern for his uncle. They were going to find Vergil and he was going to be okay, they were going to fix this and, maybe that would lead to Dante and Vergil not fighting in the shop all the time. "Does he know this?"

Dante bit his lip. He was looking at the ground. "No." 

"When we find him, the two of you are going to have to have a sit down and lay your cards on the table." 

"Hey, don't want to interrupt your little cuddle fest," Nico called out and they turned, everyone looking to her, standing there with the Vergil's notepad in hand, having gone over all his notes on upcoming jobs. "I may not know exactly where Vergil is, but I know where he's going to be next week."


	8. Chapter 8

Gunther's car was clean and dry, a little bit old, but Vergil didn't know much about cars. He'd never had an interest. Gunther opened the door for him and he took the passenger seat. 

Gunther got in the drivers seat and he laughed when he saw how tightly Vergil was clutching the handle hanging from the ceiling. "Do I come across as a bad driver or something?" 

Vergil looked him over, thought back to the shape of the car. There were no major dents or scratched, but that was somehow true of the van as well. "I wouldn't know. I've only been privy to bad drivers."

Gunther reached out, put a hand on Vergil's thigh. His hand was warm through Vergil's charcoal slacks. "Well don't you worry, Gilver, you're in good hands here." 

He was, he knew that. Gunther was a good person. But something about that touch made his tail flick with anger, even though it was hidden away. He felt on edge, felt wrong, being in a car with the man, such tight quarters. Gunther spoke often through the drive, complaining about the light rain, asking Vergil questions about Dante and life and what he did for a living, things that Vergil had invented long ago as things Gilver would say. He kept his hands to himself, most of the time, but whenever they were at a stop light he'd stretch out, put his hand on Vergil's chair or on his shoulder, look over at him, and there was color to his cheeks that may have been ailment but Vergil worried was something else. 

Marguerite's home wasn't too far away but it was long enough that the rain had picked up. Gunther pulled out an umbrella from the back seat and when he went around the car and opened the door for Vergil he held the umbrella over him. 

"You don't have to do that," Vergil said. 

"I do," Gunther smiled, "You just hold yourself like a god walked among ants. You should be treated as such." 

Vergil stopped and just looked at him. "I do? My apologies, it was not my intention." It really wasn't. It was true that he saw himself as above humans, a lot of the time, they spent their lives just trying to survive instead of creating legacy. He had been working on that though, on seeing the beauty in human lives. Still he did not stop Gunther from walking him to the door and approved of staying dry. 

He could hear the doorbell ring inside the house and he could hear Marguerite curse under her breath before getting up and coming to the door. The door opened but there was a chain keeping it closed so the door closed again, unlocked, and opened up the rest of the way. Marguerite's eye was bright and twinkling, the other one was swollen shut with a nasty bruise on it, but her smile was as wide and true as always. 

"Gunther and Gilver! What a surprise! I was just settling down to my evening tea, come in, come in, there should still be enough in the kettle for two more." 

She held the door open, revealing that she was in a nightgown and cardigan, her arm in a cast and sling over her chest. There were a few other bruises on her, almost hidden by fabric. 

"Sorry we came by so late, practice went a bit longer than expected," Gunther explained, leading the way inside. 

Vergil followed him, eyeing the small home. It was quaint, filled with tea cups and old papers and chachkies, making the space seem even smaller and cozier. 

"Not to worry, I've been hoping someone would stop by." 

She took them to the living room where there were high backed chairs and a discarded knitting project, a small white cat curled up by the fake fireplace that was currently turned off. There was a raised bench of brick that the fireplace and cat were on and, while Gunther took the second chair, Vergil sat beside the cat, who "mrrped" as he ran a finger down her spine. 

She left them alone for a moment to get them some tea, ignoring Gunther's attempt at helping her. The cat was soft and fluffy, her fur quite long and she was much older than her size made her seem. She sniffed at Vergil's fingers before deciding he was safe enough for her to headbutt his hand and demand her ears rubbed. Vergil complied, using both hands to stroke and rub at the cat until she was purring and the inner lids of her eyes started to close. 

"You've got a way with animals," Gunther noted. 

"It's just about listening," Vergil explained, "They may not speak as we do but they tell you their desires much more readily." 

He thought Gunther was still sitting but now there was a hand on his cheek, turning Vergil's attention up to him. "Is that what you want to do? Figure out people's desires?" 

"Lemon Ginger?" Marguerite asked, interrupting the conversation. Vergil exhaled, turning towards her, finding himself relaxing. He didn't know what it was about Gunther, he was just being friendly, but wherever he touched felt terribly hot and tingly and Vergil found himself wanting to get away from it. 

She didn't leave again and she watched both of them with a bit of concern in her brow. Of all of them Marguerite knew Vergil best and she knew how uncomfortable he found touching. She must have wanted to make sure he was comfortable. He was, in her presence, and the conversation went from the tea to how practice was going - she gave Vergil her blessing to play her part - to how she had fallen on the steps and broken her wrist. She claimed there was still a stain from the can of tomatoes that burst when she landed on the groceries. 

Vergil didn't want to leave. This was nothing. This was boring. But it was also so very nice. He didn't do this with people and he was feeling like he was part of the group, an equal. He didn't feel like he was excluded from the conversation and he had something to add to it for once. He smiled, honestly, just for the fact that he was content. 

He didn't want to think about being alone in a car with Gunther after or about where he would go after that. 

\--

Kyrie looked it up. They called themselves the Mid Redgrave Orchestra. Their site had a bit of information, a few past shows had galleries, there was a merch store that had two whole shirts on it, there were bios for all the performers, and there was information on their upcoming show. Again Nero had to thank his father for keeping such meticulous notes. It was just MRO on there but it was easy enough to figure out what that meant from the date and location. 

"Go back to the last page?" Lady asked from over Nero's shoulder. 

He went back. It was the bios for all the players. They all looked like normal boring people. He scrolled down through them, unsure what she was looking for. At the bottom there was a new player. There was no photo and there were hardly any details about them aside from name: Gilver Southworth, age: 44, and instrument: Violin. Nero could have sworn it should have been more than just violin, there had to be something more definitive than that. 

"There we go!" she cheered, looking over her shoulder at Dante, who was back at his desk with his feet hoisted up on it. "Vergil went by the name Gilver for a while, right?" 

Dante shrugged, "Stupid alias I've ever heard. Even worse than V." 

"Tricked you though, didn't it?" 

Dante made a face. "Shut up, it would have tricked you too." 

Kyrie ignored them both, "So when he said he was interested in classical music he meant that he was interested in playing, not listening. I'd love to hear him play." 

"I'm sure we can figure out where they practice, we could sit in." Nero offered. 

"No no no," she shook her head and raised her voice, "Vergil and Dante had an argument, therefore they're going to have to make up on their own. It's true that Vergil's not doing anything that's harmful but there is a reason that he's hiding it. I wonder what that is?" 

Dante swung his legs down and got up. "This is on him. He lied and made it seem like this was a bigger deal than it was. It's not my fault I thought he was up to no good." 

"You could have asked him nicer, could have made him feel like he was in a safe enough place that he could tell you," Nero scolded. 

Dante put his hands up and backed off a bit, "Look, he played violin as a kid, back when we were really little. Mom taught him. It wasn't a secret back then. Way I see it, he still thinks playing violin is something for kids. Something that should be beneath him." 

Kyrie's eyes went wide, her face reddening. "Playing violin is extremely difficult! There's so many different things to learn and if any of them are off the whole thing gets messed up! There's nothing childish about it." 

"Tell him that!" 

"How about you?" she got up, passing the computer over to Nero. "Tell me, have you even tried to call him?" 

Nico, sitting to the side with Trish started to pound her fists on her knees mouthing "Fight! Fight! Fight!" 

Dante balked. "I didn't think about it." 

Kyrie put her hands on her hips. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She was soft and gentle but right then she was a goddess, untouchable and unrelenting. There would be no beating her. Nero loved her with every fiber of his being. 

Dante growled and left for the kitchen, picking up his phone on the way.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this whole fic was supposed to be 2 chapters

Gunther parked the car in the church parking lot since Vergil still had no answer as to where he wanted to go after visiting Marguerite. They'd been there until the woman had to go to bed and then they'd driven around the city for a little bit, seeing how the construction was going. Vergil didn't care about seeing how Redgrave was rebuilding, looking at all the damage just cemented how much damage he'd caused. He still didn't understand why Dante hadn't killed him, why Nero had been so accepting of him. He'd killed people. He'd killed hundreds of thousands in Redgrave alone and they knew that. Sure, he didn't remember doing it, his head was split in two at the time and the memories now were jumbled on top of one another, the more important one usually rising to the top but V's pain in those early moments of life were just as commanding as Urizen's apathetic deeds. It was no wonder that Dante didn't trust him. Even before this time, even before Temen Ni Gru, he was a killer. He didn't even kill people for profit like Dante did, just for getting in his way, just for being weak, being human. He didn't deserve this new chance. 

"You've been quiet for a while," Gunther said, drawing him out of his thoughts. "You can talk to me." 

"Just thinking about the man I used to be," Vergil explained, "I understand my brother's worry for me, what he expects of me." 

Gunther opened the door. "Come on." 

The rain was still coming down but it was mostly a drizzle now but it was still wet enough for Gunther to grab the umbrella and shield Vergil with it when he got out of the car. They started to walk and Vergil wanted to ask where they were going but it didn't look like they were going anywhere, were just walking, close enough together that they were both under the umbrella. If Gunther knew what Vergil was, what he'd done, he knew he'd be alone in this moment, if not ostracized. 

"You don't need to think so much," Gunther explained, "Just focus on the now. Focus on who you are and what you're doing in the moment." 

What he was doing in the now. He was trying. He was trying to be a better man, a better father, to have friends and family, to find something that he enjoyed. He was failing in a lot of it. 

"In the moment I'm not much of anything," he admitted. 

"In the moment you're a man who's been hurt, who needs some warmth and sympathy." 

Vergil could argue that but he didn't think Gilver could, so he said nothing. 

"You need someone who'll be there for you, someone who believes in you, who finds you strong at your weakest point."

He didn't know if that was true and, even if it was, he wasn't willing to show anyone his weakest point. Even when V was dying, crumbling away in Nero's hold, that was no where near the weakest Vergil had ever been. 

"You're deserving of love and I think you'll find it's the best cure for your aches." 

A hand went to his jaw, so warm and comforting that he didn't fight as it turned his gaze over and down to Gunther's. Nero and Kyrie had touched him but never like this, never with so much desire and gentleness. He didn't know what to do but go along with it, pressing his cheek into the touch, wanting more of it. Dante only touched him in anger or in play fighting. He just wanted more of this, of being touched. So when Gunther pulled him down, got up on his tip toes, and pressed their lips together, his mind turned to a fuzzy mess. 

Then every synapse went off at once. He was being kissed by Gunther, by his friend, by the leader of the group. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be kissed by him, all those lingering gazes and touches suddenly made sense and he felt sick. He wanted to get away, he wanted to fight. His hands flexed and when they closed he found Yamato in his hold. He didn't want this. His eyes were burning as the kiss turned harder, pressed against him, Gunther's hands moving so one was on the back of his neck. 

He was going to vomit. He was going to scream. He didn't want this. 

He didn't want to be pushed away. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to lose the group. If he fought back, if he didn't obey, he'd be all alone again. He should have seen what was coming. He should have known. 

His phone started to ring and Gunther pulled away, letting him breathe in the cool air. It didn't feel like enough. 

He pulled his phone out. His hand was shaking. The name on the screen said Dante and his mouth was so dry he couldn't imagine answering it. 

"Is it Tony?" 

He nodded and before he could recognize what Gunther was doing his phone was out of his hand, answered, and against Gunther's ear. 

"Hey Tony!" Gunther smiled into the phone as if everything was fine, as if he hadn't just been kissing Vergil a second before. "Vergil? I don't know who that is. I'm Gunther, one of Gilver's friends. Uhuh? Yeah well, he doesn't want to talk to you right now. He's safe, he's fine. Don't you worry about him. What? No. No, it's fine. Goodbye." 

He hung up the phone and handed it back to Vergil. "Seems there's something going on between you two, between us too, who's Vergil?" 

"It's fine," Vergil whispered, not knowing why he couldn't speak any louder than that. "it's nothing you need to worry about." 

"Isn't it?" Gunther was close again, in his space, and Vergil felt small, pathetic. "You're hiding something from me, Gilver, what is it?" 

"It doesn't matter," Vergil said, taking a step back, clutching Yamato. 

Gunther's eyes tracked down, noted the weapon in his hand. 

"I'll see you at practice," Vergil stated, finishing it, and turned on his heel marching into the darkness, into the rain. 

\---

Dante slammed the phone back into the cradle, cracking the plastic base. He was always careful with his things and that put Nero on alert. It didn't look like he was careful with things but he knew his strength well enough to not break things casually. 

"And?" Kyrie asked, her voice a bit shaky. She was close to Nero's side. She still had nightmares about what had happened in the Order, what Dante had done, even though she understood his reasoning while awake. Him actually displaying his nonhuman nature made her nervous. 

"He didn't answer," Dante grumbled, "Some 'friend' of his did. And he didn't know Vergil's name, just this stupid moniker he used back when we were kids."

"So what if he's using a different name?" Lady asked, crossing her arms. "You use a different name when you're trying to blend in, he's probably doing the same thing." 

"Gilver is the name that's on the site," Nero added, "You can't be that surprised that he's using it." 

Dante ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. It was getting too long again, making him look like a sheep dog. His other hand was on his hip, the classic stance he stood in when he was trying to calm himself down. "Look, it's fine. He can call himself what he wants. It's just. It feels like he's pretending to be someone else and he doesn't need to do that anymore."

"You seriously think that?" Nico added, hip against the desk. "Sorry to say it but your bro's a bit of an ass. People know he did what he did there'd be a lot more bloodshed in the streets. He can take care of himself but you'd have to play as his maid."

"It's the name, isn't it?" Nero pressed, "There's something about that name specifically that you don't like."

Dante shrugged, "What should I care what he calls himself? More concerned by how he wouldn't answer his phone in the first place. He must really be pissed if he's not willing to answer." 

He was dodging the question, that was obvious, but the fact that he wasn't answering his phone, that someone else had in his stead, that was more of a concern. If Dante was right in worrying that Vergil was being used by someone again, that could be who answered the phone. If not, it would definitely fuel Dante's paranoia. 

"Who answered the phone? Did you get a name?"

"Yeah, some Gunther guy?" 

That was a relief. Nero sighed at that. "Gunther's the leader of MRO. Pretty sure he's just a normal middle aged human. If Vergil's hanging out with him that means he's got a place to stay at the very least; maybe some human advice will help him out too." 

Dante visibly relaxed; his shoulders drooping. A small smile decorated his face. "Vergil, hanging around humans on his own? I'd never believe it." 

Kyrie scooped up the computer without warning, marched over to the bench in the lobby, and plunked down on it. She didn't say anything as she started to type, only pausing to suddenly count everyone in the room with a clear point. 

"And what are you up to?" Dante asked, wandering over towards her." 

A few more button presses and she was smiling up at him, all warmth and humanity. "You'd better clear your schedule; I just bought us all tickets to his show!" 

"What?" Dante squinted and looked over to Nero, "You can't be serious." 

Nero smiled. Of course she did. She would always support Vergil in his human interests, just as she had with Nero. 

"We're his family, we're going to support him. I hope you clean up okay." 

Dante balked, looking around the room for any back up. It wasn't coming. He was going to go, they all were. 

"I'll make sure to reschedule any appointments," Nico piped up. "This is going to be great! Seeing Vergil as a performing demon. Oh, you think he's going to steal someone's soul? You know the whole devil with a fiddle thing?" She mimed played a violin and even Nero could tell that she was holding it wrong. Still, it got a laugh which was desperately needed. 

"I'm not going to have to wear a suit, am I?" Dante groaned. 

Kyrie just smiled at him all the more.


	10. Chapter 10

[11:46am Marguerite] Are you busy?

[11:46am Gilver] No.

[11:46am Marguerite] There's a little cafe a few blocks from the church, called Beangrave. Meet me there in 20 minutes?

[11:47am Gilver] Is there something you need?

[11:47am Marguerite] Just thought we should chat a bit.

[11:47am Marguerite] I have a proposition for you. 

[11:47am Marguerite] And some advice. 

[11:47am Gilver] I'll be there.

Vergil sighed, putting his phone in his pocket. He'd been in the middle of practicing and it was going much better than the day before but he still wasn't happy with his progress. He didn't have much time to catch up. It was probably best though that he leave the church, even for a little while. If Dante was looking for him he'd probably try to sniff him out and all this time in one place would make him much easier to find. 

He packed up the violin and left the little side room of the church. No one had asked him what he was doing there and there was no security there at night, just a simple alarm that he was able to bypass so that he had a roof over his head. He was good at that; he'd had to sleep in strange places many times, he was good at getting in. He never thought he'd have to use those skills again but he was glad that he had them. 

He'd made it to the sidewalk before his phone beeped again. Part of him wanted it to be Marguerite, relinquishing her invitation, but the name displayed was Gunther's. He felt hollow immediately, stopping mid step, and clicking on the message. He didn't know what to expect, an apology perhaps, for kissing him as he had, some realization that Vergil didn't feel the same. 

[11:52am Gunther] Hey, if you need help getting ready for the recital, feel free to swing by anyway, I'll give you a hand in practicing, any time.

It was followed up with a kissy face. Vergil was certain that he didn't actually intend to give Vergil time to practice. It was unfortunate, because he had liked Gunther, considering his humanity, but now he was no longer looking forward to the recital. Perhaps he should just go home. Perhaps, he should make up with Dante and put all this foolishness behind him. 

He inhaled sharply and continued on to the cafe. The shop was extremely modern, still smelling like fresh paint, and it had a map of the city painted on one wall. Aside from that there were no decorations, it was barren and uninviting, feeling right for Vergil. He didn't feel like he should be around people at the best of times but now he felt even more alien. 

A hand shot up from one of the pods of black chairs and he followed the motion to find Marguerite sipping from one of two iced teas that were sitting on the tiny table.

"I didn't now what you'd like," she explained. She was wearing large black sunglasses to hide her black eye. "I hope it's alright." 

"You didn't have to get me anything," Vergil said and his voice was quiet, uncertain. He thought he was getting better at talking to people. 

"Nonsense! I like to spoil my friends when I can."   
Friends. She considered him a friend. He felt dirty about that, as much as he didn't want to, as much as he didn't understand why. He'd lied to her, he wasn't as good a person as she believed. He didn't deserve her friendship. That must have been why it felt so wrong in his ears. 

"Last night it seemed like you were down on your luck," she started, getting right to the point as to their meeting. "I've found that I am a very impatient old lady and I absolutely hate not getting anything done or struggling to do what I can one handed. Therefore, I would like to offer you a trade." 

He took a sip of the coffee; too much dairy but not bad. He looked her over, gesturing to her to continue. 

"You want to wait on me, hand and foot for a while, and you can stay on my couch instead of wherever you're staying these days. I can't play right now but I can still help you out with preparing for the recital." 

That sounded like charity and Vergil had never been one for charity. She had asked him to pay for it with serving her though, so that was a bit better. It wasn't something he'd ever done before and he was sure to be rotten at it. 

"Gunther's already offered to help me get ready," he murmured. 

"Gunther?" she raised an eyebrow, "I saw how the pair of you were last night; it looked like I'd interrupted at the perfect time. The pair of you seem ill suited and you seem extremely uncomfortable around him." 

He'd thought she'd just had good timing but no, she was looking out for him; even though she didn't know who he really was. He swallowed, hard, and he stared at the cold black table. He wanted to tell her, wanted her to make her opinion of him, kick him out or give him some resolution for all his crimes. He didn't know why, a few humans already knew, but Lady didn't like him regardless of what he did and Kyrie brushed all of his bumps under the rug. 

"He-" Vergil didn't know where he was going with this. He was the one at fault, not Gunther. Sure, Gunther had kissed him but Vergil must have led him on or something, he was so bad at reading human's intentions. "I fear I must have given Gunther the wrong impression."

Marguerite's uninjured hand went to her mouth. "He didn't! I know he's not good at recognizing a lack of interest but, Gilver, please tell me the two of you didn't sleep together." 

His eyebrows shot up and he choked a bit on his coffee. He punched himself in the sternum a few times to get the coffee out of his lungs before wiping away at the moisture it had brought to his eyes. "No, no, nothing like that. He just kissed me, that's all." 

"As if that's so much better, did you want him to kiss you?" 

Vergil shook his head. 

"Did you tell him that?" 

"No, I just sort of froze up." 

"Shit." 

Vergil stared at her again. He'd never heard her swear before. It was strange, unnatural. 

"That was what I was going to give you advice about. Gunther's heart is in the right place but he has a habit of falling head over heals for any birdy with a broken wing he can find and nurse to health. He must have figured that that's you. Pair that with his complete inability at recognizing other people's level of interest and lines get crossed. Do you want me to talk to him for you?" 

Vergil shook his head. "No, I'd rather not let things get any more awkward between us. I'll deal with it after the recital." 

"If you're sure," she offered, nonchalant, a finger in a bit of spilled sugar. "What do you think of my offer?" 

"I think I like it," Vergil admitted, "I am used to being alone but I think I do better with another around." 

She smiled at that and, while Vergil wasn't great at reading expressions, he could tell this was genuine. He wondered just how badly she'd needed someone else around. Maybe she'd been just as lonely as he'd been. 

He bit his lip though, reluctant. If he was going to do this, he had to come out with more. He had to tell her, at least a little bit. 

"I must confess that I have been lying to you though." 

"You're name's not Gilver?" 

He stared at her. She couldn't have known that; not unless she'd looked into him, unless she somehow knew who and what he was. 

She cackled though, through her hand over her mouth again. "Oh my god, that's it isn't it? Wow, I was just hoping! It's just, Gilver is a terrible name and it doesn't fit you at all. What's your name then?"

He smiled as well, the worry faded. "It's Vergil." 

"Vergil," she tested it, "Yeah, alright. I like that a lot more."

\---

Nero had a really high alcohol tolerance. It was nowhere near as high as Dante's but that man drank whiskey like it was milk and there was no chance he was lactose intolerant. So Sure, Nero had gotten through a six pack or beer and was working on a bottle of vodka and it was only three o'clock but he felt like it was earned.   
He wasn't at home, no one could judge him. He was done with the hunt for the day, one of the jobs that Vergil had set up for him, and he didn't have anything he had to do the next day. He was without responsibility, and, for once, he was taking full advantage of that. 

If only he was drinking out of joy or celebration instead of frustration and worry. 

Vergil had been gone for four days now and he hadn't been in contact with any of them. Nero had tried, of course, but he could only get so far in a text to start begging before deleting the whole message without sending. He didn't know if any of the others had tried to contact him either or if he just wasn't responding. 

Nero understood, a bit. He knew that Dante could be bullheaded and a bit of an ass and he knew that knew that Vergil was selfish and unobservant of how people actually felt but he couldn't understand why someone would choose to be alone. He had been alone, a lot, and he hated it, he knew that he would have done anything to get back on his brother's good side if he was one of them. He wasn't though and the twins were more used to keeping each other at arms length or further than actually talking through their problems. 

So he drank. 

He drank and he stared at his phone and there was no way he was going to call Vergil. He wasn't going to beg him to come home. He wasn't going to demand that he prove himself innocent to Dante. He wasn't going to mention the recital. He agreed with Kyrie on that point, that they'd surprise him with their attendance. He wouldn't ruin that for them. 

What hurt the most was the fact that this wasn't his fault. He took another swig of the lemon flavored vodka, wishing he had something to mix it with, as he internalized Vergil's actions. 

If his problem was with Dante, why wouldn't he go to his family? Nero hated to hold it against him but he couldn't stop thinking that Vergil didn't want him. They didn't have as good of a relationship as fathers and sons usually had and their relationship was even more strained, just out of being so new. He thought that they'd been getting along though. He wondered if he'd read it all wrong, if that uncomfortable way that Vergil sat on the edge of conversations was because he was unsure of how to contribute, not because he was trying to find some excuse to get away. 

He shouldn't have been surprised. 

He wasn't a good person; with The Order he'd been a blind assassin, doing as he was told and not looking into things further, even though he didn't follow the faith as tightly as he was expected to. He didn't think Vergil would have minded that, not with how many people he had killed, but it may have been that Vergil found him weak, feeling guilt, or anything really, for those he'd killed. They were just humans and demons and Vergil showed no qualm about the extinction of either. He was too needy of approval, too desperate for redemption. He wanted to be a good person. Vergil didn't care about that; neither did Dante. Perhaps they thought he was weak for trying. 

[2:52pm Nero] You hate me or soemthign?

[2:52pm Nero] Been waiting like 4 days and nothing, not even an um okie and I'm just supposed to expect you to be okay? 

[2:53pm Nero] You been gone without a word, what a m i suppose to think? 

[2:53pm Nero] I just. I wanna be your son, o ueah? I want to be there and be your family but you make it so hard and you suck so much. Like how hard is it to text soeone one and tell them your okay? Why is that so hard? 

[2:53pm Nero] like you care. You probably don't. You just are doing this whole family thing beicae Dante told you to and now that you two had an argument you had to just leave. 

[2:53pm Nero] You suck at talking you knowu that? I wisht you were V sometimes, yeah teh guy was a mystery adn he sucked too but he at least listened and talked even though I oculdn't understand half of it and he tried. 

[2:54pm Nero] Other than Nico I think he was the only friend I had who was still alive and i had to carry im to his death, to when he became you again and none of that is still there, is it? None of that care that he had. 

He looked at his phone, at the stream of consciousness that his alcohol induced mind had decided was a good idea to send. Vergil wasn't responding, of course, and he didn't know if he wanted him to. These were all truths but that didn't mean he had to say them. This could just make everything worse. 

He took a few more swigs before putting the bottle down. 

[2:56pm Nero] You coming back? 

[2:56pm Nero] You

[2:56pm Nero] Even wnt me?

[2:56pm Nero] No, of course you don't you never did. Did you even stick around long enough for me to be brn? You even know I was a alive or exited or whatever whrn you went off and killed all those peope? You want me know? 

There were tears streaming down his cheek, hot and thick, even though his eyes didn't burn or anything. This was cathartic, these questions he'd always had, this worry that's always nagged at him. Sure Vergil wasn't answering, wouldn't answer, but just getting them out of his head was good. 

[2:56pm Nero] Did you ever want a son?

[2:58pm Vergil] I'm sorry. I should have been in contact sooner, I just feared that one of you would try to get me back and I'm not ready to face Dante; not yet. I don't feel like I am the one who needs to apologize. Not to him. 

[2:58pm Vergil] I do need to apologize to you though. It is easier, through texting to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I haven't said anything. I'm sorry I've been distant. I'm sorry that I was never the father you needed me to be, that I wasn't even there for you for so long. I'm sorry that I'm not someone else and I'm sorry I took your friend away from you. 

[2:58pm Vergil] I'm not sorry that I gave you up for I know you would have died if I hadn't. I am not sorry that you exist and I am not sorry that you are my son. I was there for your birth and a bit after and I wanted so desperately to keep you, but I knew nothing about how to be a parent and I was too busy in my pursuit of power to learn. 

[2:59pm Vergil] I love you.

And then Nero's eyes were burning, his chest heaving as he was folded over, shoulders past his knees. His phone was in one hand as he cursed and sobbed at the ground, at his foolishness, at the secrets that he wished that he knew and the relief that came from few answers he'd received.


	11. Chapter 11

He folded and unfolded the cuffs of his shirt. Nero was late. Nero was a lot of things but late wasn't often one of them. Perhaps he had made a mistake, he was certain that he had, in inviting Nero to meet him at the Beangrave cafe that he'd met Marguerite four days prior. Nero knew this city though, so he wasn't late, but he had been drunk when Vergil had asked him to come. It was also the first time he'd invited someone to do anything with him and he'd copied the way that Nero had invited him to dinner with Kyrie but there was still the chance that he had forgotten some important part of the etiquette. He tapped on the table. 

Maybe Nero didn't like this sort of establishment, though he'd seen Nero drink coffee many times. It was very modern and Nero had a very rock'n'roll 90's aesthetic, very grunge. This place was probably too 'hipster' for him, whatever that meant. Vergil should have researched, should have found a specific place that Nero would have been more comfortable it. 

His mind was racing so much that he didn't notice when a small white bag was dropped off in front of him, only coming back to the present when Nero sighed and sat across from him. 

"Sorry I'm late," he said sounding tired, hurt, and when Vergil looked him over he was definitely still suffering from hangover. "Saw something on the way over and I, well, I thought you'd like it." He gestured at the bag. 

Vergil's mouth went dry. "You didn't have to get me anything." 

Nero shrugged. "I didn't, but I thought you'd like it. I don't have to wait until a holiday to get you something, do I?" 

Vergil shook his head. Was this a normal thing for Nero? To give things without expectation of recompense? He hesitated to reach for the bag, trying to measure his anticipation. He didn't want Nero to think he wasn't excited but he also didn't want his curiosity to be misconstrued as greed. He wanted the right balance. 

The bag rustled under this fingers. He opened it up and inside there was a small piece of card stock in a small plastic bag. He pulled it out and flipped it over, finding it to be a simple yet elegant enamel pin in the intricate shape of a rose with blue petals. He freed it of the plastic and the card stock and pinned it to his lapel. 

"It's beautiful," he said, "though I think its a bit more fitting of you with your weapon." 

Nero chuckled, "Yeah, well now we can both have a blue rose." 

He breathed through his nose at that. Other than genetics and a few meals he'd never shared things with Nero. He and Dante shared everything as kids and he'd resented it, always wanted things for his own, but this felt different, this felt good. This felt like Nero was sharing something with him because he wanted to instead of because of some asinine rule. 

"Thank you," he said and he spoke softly, what he thought was his usual tone with Nero when they weren't in a fight, but Nero looked at him with such concern that he had to look away and clear his throat. He felt like he was being looked over for some damage. 

"You've been gone four days, you're holding up alright?" Nero asked. 

"I'm staying with a friend," Vergil admitted. That got a laugh out of Nero, which made sense, he wasn't one for making friends normally. "She gave me a ride here." 

"She? So not Gunther?" 

That caused a shiver of alarm in him and he stared at Nero. His hair was getting a bit shaggy and the lines under his eyes looked like more than a single hangover. He'd been losing sleep and Vergil hoped it wasn't over him. 

"Dante called you but Gunther answered, I thought you'd be staying with him." 

"I was there during the call," Vergil admitted. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd answered."

They sat there in silence for a moment and Vergil had all this time to think, all this time to plan out what he was going to say, and now it all felt so weak in his mouth, like it wasn't enough. 

"I know you miss V-" 

"I miss you too," Nero interrupted. "And I get it, he's you, whatever, you don't have to help me grieve him." 

Vergil reached out, put his hand on Nero's, and he didn't know if that was the right thing to do or not, if that was allowed. "I do care, the same way that he did. He didn't have most of my memories, just enough to give him the ability to survive in the world but I remember everything that he did, every moment that the two of you shared. He showed me the value in humanity more than I could have found in any amount of exploring on my own did. He gave me more love for you than a bond of blood could." 

Nero bit his lip and his eyes were wet, almost spilling, it made Vergil want to take it back. He had wanted to give Nero the truth that he wanted to hear, not make him cry, not make things harder for him. Nero wiped his eyes and sniffed, as if they weren't tears but the side affect of a cold before he got to his feet. 

"I'm gonna get a coffee, you want anything?" 

Vergil shook his hear, looking at his latte; there were still a few sips left of it. "I'm fine, thank you for thinking of me."

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta look out for my old man." Nero patted him on the shoulder as he walked off to the counter. 

So Vergil sat there and he turned his lapel so the blue rose would catch the light. He smiled to himself because he was doing something, it may not pan out but he was at least trying and he knew that intention and the attempt was more important to Nero than the words that he actually said. And Nero loved him, even with his misgivings, even with how bad he was at just getting through emotions and words and everything that he should have been good with. Now they shared something that was so important to Nero and, at the same time, it was something that was inherently Vergil's as well. 

Nero came back in a few minutes, holding some monstrosity that may have had some coffee somewhere in it. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Vergil asked as Nero went at it with a spoon, scooping of some whipped cream and chocolate. 

"Best things for a hang over are fluids and fats," Nero shrugged. "I. Thank you for saying that. About V." 

Vergil's smile didn't reach his eyes but it formed his dimples at least. "I'm going to come back, to Devil May Cry," he admitted, "I'll fix things with Dante. I just need a few days." Because there was still a chance that he wouldn't be able to escape again, that he wouldn't be able to make it to the recital.

"Okay, and you'll be in contact?" 

"I'm very bad at texting first," Vergil admitted, "but I'll do what I can." 

That must have been enough for Nero, because he smiled, genuinely, and ate the cherry off his drink. "Are you going to start coming by for dinner again?" 

"I'm sorry if I made it seem like I was uninterested. I'm just busy on Thursdays." He hadn't told Nero why and he was going to ask and then it would be out there. It wasn't that big of a deal, Vergil shouldn't have been so nervous about admitting it, especially after how childishly he'd run away. 

"Maybe some different day then? We can compare schedules." 

Vergil nodded and the lines around his eyes crinkled. "I'd like that. And would be alright if I tried cooking, every once in a while? I'd like to learn, I think." 

"As long as you don't poison us."

"I'd try my best not to."

\---

The conversation wouldn't leave Nero's mind. Vergil knew everything that V did, had grown through his time as V, and loved him. He had read it, while drunk, but that didn't make it all that believable. They were just three words. Words that Vergil would never say unless he meant them but Nero had a hard time believing them all the same. He wasn't used to that. Even Kyrie's parents, when he lived with them, he was never loved by them; was never really part of the family. They adopted him as a tool for The Order, as a way to keep an eye on him, and he'd still been on the outside. 

But Vergil did love him, he was his father, his real father, not just by blood but by the relationship that he was trying to build with him. He didn't know what he was doing, didn't have the experience to be fatherly, but Nero didn't know how to be a son either. 

"It's not that big of a deal," Kyrie interrupted his thoughts, poking her chin over his shoulder to look at the selection of ties he was looking out. "I checked out the venue it's not a wedding or anything." 

"I want to look good," Nero corrected. 

"You wash your face, wear a vest and a tie over a shirt that has no holes in it, maybe some jeans without holes too, that's enough." She settled back on the flats of her feet and elbowed him in the ribs. "It's not like you're going to listen anyway, we both know you'll have your headphones on five minutes in." 

She started to leave then but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her back, catching that brilliant smile and feeling it spread through him as well. "You want to know a secret?" 

"What?" 

He inhaled, standing up straight and glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "My headphones were on but I wasn't playing anything. I was still listening." 

"You just wanted to what, look cool?" 

"You got me there." 

"Well you looked like a jerk." 

"I'm sure I did." 

He bent down and gave her forehead a kiss but she grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down a bit further so she could kiss his lips without having to get back on her tip toes. When she released him she took a look into his basket to see what all he'd selected from the racks. 

"So now you think you've got to make up for it? You don't need a three piece suit or anything." She picked up a pair of slacks from the pile and made a face. "We only have two days, that means we don't have time for tailoring. And no pleated pants! You're not old enough for those!" 

"How old do you need to be for pleated pants?" He snatched them back from her. 

"Like seventy! They're awful!" 

He wrapped an arm around her waist and spun her, pulling her away from his basket. "Okay fine, no pleated pants but a man needs a good suit." 

She giggled and put her hands on his shoulders to keep herself from falling over. "You never have before." 

"Maybe I'll need one someday for a really special event," he glanced at her hand, noting how there was no ring there. He kept meaning to get her a ring but he'd never had the money for it. Now things were getting a little bit easier, work was busy now, he was feeling a little bit more confidant. He could give her a good life, he could take care of her, if things kept going the way they were. 

"Then you can get one for that event. Or you can rent one. For now let's keep it simple, okay?" She gave him another kiss. If she knew what he was thinking she was keeping it to herself. 

She moved over to a pile of folded up shirts, going through them for his size. He noticed that the ones that she was going through were all purples, maroons, and deep reds. He couldn't do red; if he went with that he knew he and Dante would match and that would just be awkward. He moved over to her and shifted her attention down to the shirts a little bit further down, the ones that were silver and icy blue. 

"You're not thinking of changing aesthetics?" she teased. 

He spread his arms wide, "Nothing's set in stone anyway, I wear a lot of blue, look at my coat!" 

She gave him an all knowing smile all the same. Whatever, she could just him as much as she wanted. He went back to the ties, looking for something a bit brighter, something patterned but still adult. He knew a pocket square would be far too much but still, he kind of wanted one. For the future then, when he could get the full set.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the break. I've been not doing so hot in the brain and I had some bad computer issues.

His hands were trembling at the end of the note, sweat on his brow from the bright lights that illuminated the stage. There were tears in his eyes, not from the brightness but from the song. When He was with Marguerite he was distracted enough, focused on her, that his petty emotions didn't cloud his playing. She was there still but she was in one of the many seats, invisible to him and the group. He'd heard that would be the case but he wasn't certain with how his eyes worked. He always seemed to see more than other people did. 

The applause was there though. It came from around him, from the other players. He lowered the bow, looking around at all of them. They hadn't applauded any of the other songs. The only time any of them had clapped was when Richard stabbed himself in the foot with his cello spike and that was very much ironic. But they were applauding him, some of them grinning. 

"That was fantastic!" Gunther grinned from his space at the front. He wasn't really a conductor but there was no space for him in that specific song. "Just a week ago you were missing half the notes. You're a marvel you are!" 

There was a clasp on his back, congratulations, but it was an attack from out of the corner of his eye and he felt himself bristle, the wetness fading from his eyes and replaced with a glowing crackle. It was nothing though, just Gwen, the viola player, showing solidarity. He had to let the energy fade, dissipate. He was with friends. 

"I had a lot of practice the past few days," Vergil explained, forcing a smile. "It's a song I knew well as a child; it's just trying to remember it all." 

"Well, you're a master," Gunther continued, coming closer, moving through the small group to wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Let's take a quick break, yeah?" 

He didn't want Gunther's arm around his shoulders. He didn't want to be led away from the group as they chatted among themselves. He didn't want to be pulled into a dark corner of the theatre. 

"I can't believe it!" Gunther said, his hand not quite leaving Vergil's arm but sliding down it, holding him by the shoulder. "I was so worried that we'd have to cut the piece, but you've really pulled through with it. You're a wonder Gilver, all the way through. I know you said you haven't played in years but the way you hold that instrument, it's like you know it intimately." 

There was an odd note to his voice, a bit of thickness. If Vergil didn't know better he'd think that Gunther was coming down with something. As it was, he was flirting, he'd learned that from before. 

"Marguerite is a very good teacher." 

That hand was still on him and he could feel himself bristling. He wanted to pull himself free, he wanted to strike back. He couldn't. This was dress rehearsal. What would people think if he killed their leader the day before the big event? It would just prove that he was the monster that Dante was so sure he really was. 

"I'm sure she is. I was worried about you, you know? After that night in the parking lot. You just wandered off. You've been staying with her?" 

Vergil nodded. "Yes. I've been in good company. You surprised me." 

Gunther's hand finally left Vergil's elbow but that didn't mean he had a chance to breathe. It shifted, went up to his jaw, cupped it. He almost leaned into it too. He hadn't been touched like that in years, not since he was losing his mind to Mundus, and his brain still was weirdly fragmented around that, made him want the touch, made him want to please. He did not lean into it. He stood as still as he could. 

"I surprised you? Why, you have yet to stop surprising me." Gunther took a step forward and his leg slotted between Vergil's thighs. He was terribly close, to the point that Vergil could smell the sweat on his skin. He felt clammy, hands fists at his sides. He wanted to take a step back but behind him was the thick red curtain. 

"Shouldn't we be going back?" Vergil asked. "The other's are going to start looking for us." 

Gunther removed his hand. Vergil's cheek felt damp and clammy. "You're right. We shouldn't be doing this here. Perhaps after the recital we'll go out, celebrate." 

"I'm sure the group would like that," Vergil pressed, hoping to diffuse the conversation. 

"Sure, the group." Gunther gave him a wink. 

Vergil's stomach twisted. 

He did go back out to the group though, letting Vergil follow. He tugged on his clothes, trying to straighten them, though they hadn't really been skewed. He wanted a shower. I real one, the kind he could get at Devil May Cry. Marguerite's didn't have strong enough water pressure and he wanted his skin to be buffed clean.   
Just one more day. Then there would be the recital. He didn't know what he was going to do after that. He just knew that he wouldn't have to be around Gunther unless he wanted to after that. 

\---

It was the day of and Nero could feel the anxiety in his skin, dancing through the fine white hairs on the back of his arms. He folded up the sleeves of the silver blue dress shirt over his elbows as Kyrie rolled her eyes, even though he knew she liked seeing his biceps. She had been an enormous help for him finalizing his outfit and he had to admit that he looked good in it. He looked better than he expected, more respectable. His shoes were a deep red leather, almost black, and shiny with a band of silver over the top. His slacks were pressed with the crease in the front, and they made his legs look longer. He had a waistcoat, which was a cream suede in the front and a navy satin in the back, which matched the shine and hue of his tie, which he had to get Kyrie to tie for him. 

She matched him in a few ways, her dress almost the same color of cream as his vest, through it was a simple tulip shape with lace at the top and bottom. Her makeup was all done to nude tones, though she didn't wear enough foundation to hide her freckles. Her hair was pulled up, aside from her bangs, and tied in place with a navy ribbon. 

"Stop messing with that, it's fine," she batted his hand away from his tie. It felt a bit too tight around his throat. 

"Says you! You're used to that being around your neck!" he complained, waving at the necklace of the winged sword that sat on her chest. 

"Don't make fun of it, someone who loves me gave me that." 

Nico stuck out her tongue and rolled her entire head. "Can you please stop being so cutesy? You're going to fill my whole van with your hetero cooties." 

"What are you talking about?" Nero glared at her through the rear view mirror. "I'm not straight!" 

"Well, Kyrie is, unfortunately," Nico glared back as she chewed on the nicotine gum in her mouth, visibly. She was even dressed better than usual, with a shirt that actually covered all of her torso. It was a deep gold dress shirt that looked like she'd gotten it directly from the discotheque, tucked into a pair of red high waisted jeans. She had a flat black bowtie and black suspenders, though those were completely covered in buttons. It wasn't a look that Nero would ever say was dressy or even all that pleasing to look at but it was very fitting for Nico. 

"You're just jealous that you don't have a chance with me," Kyrie sighed, looking at her nails. 

"Yeah right." Nico pouted as she pulled in front of Devil May Cry and parked. "You have any idea just how good of a time you'd have with me? None of this vanilla crap Nero's into." 

"What's wrong with vanilla?" Nero argued. 

Kyrie wrapped her arm around his, chuckling softly. 

"Nothing, if you like watching sitcoms from the 50's every night before bed. All the same, all boring, all so old fashioned." 

Kyrie was laughing then but she was also getting up and leading Nero out of the van and into the shop. Nico had no business knowing about their sex life. It wasn't that Nero was ashamed of it, but he still didn't want it to be public knowledge. 

Entering the shop was a little bit awkward, just because it was so quiet, because there was no one at the main desk. Things were cleaned up too, not a huge amount but the books and papers had been straightened out and some sweeping had even been done. He had expected Dante to still be at his desk, dirty boots on one of their ledgers, eating pizza, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

Lady and Trish were there though, sitting on the couch that was to one side, chatting. Lady was working on Trish's hair, which had been straightened and had some shining black barrettes keeping it out of her eyes. She was wearing her usual black corset top but it was on top of a white shirt with a thin black tie and a long black skirt. Lady was wearing a white suit, over clunky black boots and a flannel shirt, her hair done in its usual manner. 

"Where's Dante?" Nico asked, peering around. 

"Still getting ready," Lady mused, leaving Trish's hair alone. 

"He's got to have something," Nero groaned, "Don't tell me he's just going through all his leather jackets, looking for whatever stinks of blood the least." 

Lady shrugged, "This may come as a surprise but Dante actually can clean up nicely. It's just rare when he has a need to." 

"And even more rare when he wants to." Trish added. 

Kyrie reached around Nero's back, sliding her hand down into his pocket. His face flushed red, all the way to his ears. She pulled her phone free of his pocket and took a look at it before putting it back in its place. "Well, he's got five minutes and then we have to get going. I want to make sure we can all sit together and not all the way in the back." 

"I'm sure he's almost ready," Trish shrugged, crossing her arms. 

"I'm almost ready!" Dante shouted from somewhere above them. 

That left them waiting in an awkward silence. It wasn't enough time to start anything, just long enough to be uncomfortable. Trish kept playing with her hair, kept fidgeting. She was uncomfortable about something. Nero didn't want to pry. He pulled out the enamel pin from his pocket and searched for a place he could put it that wouldn't damage it too terribly. He ended up pushing the pin through the seam in the breast pocket. 

"Are you sure we should even be coming with?" Trish finally asked. 

"Why not?" Nero shrugged, voice flat. 

She looked up at him. "Your father and I have history, Lady does to. There's a pretty good reason that he hates me. And a pretty good reason lady hates him. It's not like we really get along with one another." 

"Why does that matter?" Kyrie interjected, "If you come along to support him, he's going to see that you're trying and that the relationship can improve, isn't that a good thing?" 

"Don't forget we weren't invited to this," Nico added. "There's a good chance he's not going to be happy with any of us after this. He had to be keeping it a secret for a reason." 

A cold knot settled in Nero's chest. He didn't want to be making things worse for Vergil. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable. This was supposed to be done out of support. Now he wasn't sure about it. 

"Okay, okay, everyone prepare to be amazed!" came a booming voice from above them and they all turned to see Dante coming down the stairs, one hand on the railing. He was clean shaven, his hair clean and looking soft, pulled into a ponytail. He looked more awake, more alive, than he had in the past week. 

He stopped before them, hands spread, and turned on his heel, "Well? Am I presentable?" 

He was wearing deep red slacks, much more bearable than Nico's skinny jeans, with a big cowboy belt, the buckle oversized and with the image of a cow skull on it. His waistcoat matched the slacks, shiny paisley in the back. His shirt was simple and black with some elegant red embroidery around the cuffs. He wasn't even wearing gloves or bandages around his hands, the cuffs left where the belonged at the wrist. He wore a bolo tie, the cord bright red, the metal looking like beaten silver, with a large unnatural stone in the center. Nero's Trigger fizzed at the sight of the pinkish stone. 

"You look," Kyrie stopped for a moment, the shock evident in her face. "You look amazing." 

"You look like your going to a wedding at the ranch," Nero corrected, noting that Dante was, in fact, wearing cowboy boots. It was a very good look for him, regardless. 

"Well I wanted to be a good example for you kids," Dante finger gunned at them. "Now, who's ready to surprise this Gilver Southworth fellow?" 

Trish and Lady, regardless of their initial nerves, got up from their seat, one on either side of of him to wrap an arm around his elbows. 

"I think there's going to be some surprises all around," Kyrie mentioned. 

"I call driver's seat!" Nico called out, jogging on ahead of them. 

"You're the driver!" Nero yelled after her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the song Vergil is playing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1RudEywIRA  
> Thank you for the recommendation HuldraK!

He could hear people, moving through the rows, sitting in the many seats. There was some promotion for the show but it was flyers on telephone poles and some information on the many social media sites that each of the other players had, not that that went far. What it led to was that most of the audience was family and friends. And that left a deep pit in Vergil's stomach. He knew that there was no one in the crowd for him, there was no way that there would be. He hadn't told anyone and he didn't have any friends anyway. 

He sighed and fished through his pocket for something to do, something to take his mind off it. He could tell that none of the others could hear their audience coming in and settling down and some of them were nervous but most had done this before; they were chatting excitedly. A few had tried that with Vergil and he'd tried to hold a conversation, truly, but he didn't know what to say to any of them. There was something in his pocket, a hard little thing, and he pulled it out to inspect it. 

The blue rose that Nero had given him. He'd forgotten that he'd taken it off the lapel of his jacket before laundering it with Marguerite's things. He smiled and attached it to the lapel of his suit. He may not of had anyone physically there for him but he did have Nero's support. Having it there made him feel better, made him feel a little bit less shaky. He had nothing to be nervous about but it was still there, that worry that he wouldn't be good enough; a weakness. Nero had given him so many chances and he had grown so much with his family's care, he had no reason for anxiety. Even if he didn't perform well here, he wouldn't lose the respect and care of those around him, and there was no reason he wouldn't perform well. 

"Everyone gather round!" Gunther called out and the surrounding conversations stilled, everyone turning in his direction. They shuffled towards him, where he was standing on a chair to get the necessary height. "Alright, well, we have five minutes before the show starts and I just want to go over a few things before we go out there and amaze everybody. I know this is some of your first shows-" he looked directly at Vergil "-and some of your one hundredth. Nerves are high and there's no problem with being afraid. Just look to one another. You are not alone. You are all so extremely talented and you've improved so much so quickly. You have each others support, you can help each other. We're here to show off how well we work together, more than anything, and have fun doing it." 

It was a lot of sentimentality, but it worked through the group and they were clearly motivated by it. Vergil wasn't sure what to think of it. He wasn't great at working with groups, even partnerships were new to him. And there would be no helping him through a solo anyway. 

"Now go forth, straighten your ties and fix up your hair because we're going to give them a show that will knock them off their feet!" Gunther beamed as he bounced down to the ground and the group did just that, spreading out and getting their instruments and appearances in order. 

Vergil was with them, picking up the battered violin and plucking at it, making sure for the eighth time that it was tuned correctly. He was unsurprised that Gunther made his way over to him, though he did sigh about it, very loudly, hoping that that man would take the hint. 

"You hanging in there alright, Gilver?" Gunther asked, pretending to lean against a music stand. "This is your first time performing in front of an audience. You don't have any stage fright do you?" 

Vergil shook his head. He was nervous, yes, but he could do this. He wasn't going to freeze up out there. "I'll be fine." 

Gunther reached out, took a lock of Vergil's hair, and pulled it forward, letting it hang over Vergil's forehead. He had this glossy look in his eye, a small smile to his lips. He was looking at Vergil like he was the world and Vergil felt hot and tight in response. He wondered if he'd been wrong, if these feelings that Gunther had for him weren't at disturbing or unwarranted as he thought. There was actual adoration in Gunther's eyes, the kind that Vergil hadn't received in years. Part of him craved it. 

"You're going to be amazing. I'm so incredibly proud of you." 

Vergil's heart swelled. The praise was so important, a tether, to keep him on the right path. It didn't matter as much as when Nero was proud of him but it still felt so very good, thrummed in his veins. If Gunther made him feel like this at all times, he felt bad for avoiding him so much. 

His hand traveled down, went to Vergil's chin, and led him down, led him close. "How about a kiss for good luck?" 

The warmth was gone, as was the consideration that Vergil had been wrong. He froze up, eyes wide, looking down at Gunther, who was coming closer as the nausea built in Vergil's throat. He put his hands on Gunther's shoulders and pulled himself back, out of Gunther's touch, back where he could breathe. 

"We don't need luck," he explained, hoping that would be enough to keep him away for the moment. "Our skills are what is important." 

"Yes, of course," Gunther agreed, though there was that note of disappointment in his voice. 

\---

Kyrie smacked him in the chest, interrupting his argument with Nico. 

"What?" he hissed. 

"Shut up!" Kyrie scolded. "It's starting!" 

She was right, the lights were fading and the crowd was quieting down. As more people went quiet more people started to shush one another. The audience wasn't terribly full, there were just as many empty seats as there were full ones, and Nero thought that that was wrong. He didn't even know if the band was any good but he still thought it deserved a better turn out. 

The lights went on over the stage and Dante was whispering something to Nico to make her laugh and he shot them both a glare. A short balding man walked out onto the stage, dressed in an old tweed jacket and charcoal slacks. Nero recognized him from the website, that was Gunther, the leader of the group. He came to the front, adjusted the microphone, and got on his tiptoes to speak into it. It was a simple introduction, not warranting the applause it received, but both Nico and Lady pulled out their cellphones to silence them when asked. Kyrie had made sure that Nero's was silenced before they came in and he was pretty sure that Dante and Trish didn't have cellphones. 

Then the rest of the band came out on stage, taking their places. They weren't so far away that they couldn't see and Vergil was easy to spot anyway. He was ridiculously tall, there was no way to mistake him, especially with the trademark white hair. He was near the center of the stage, tucking a violin under his chin, and played along with the others. 

The music wasn't what Nero would normally listen to but it wasn't bad. It was a lot more classical and then a bit too folksy, switching every other song. The players were decent, only a few sour notes here and there, but they were ignored and the band played through them without hesitation. None of the sour notes came from Vergil. 

He was standing there, focused, and Nero had seen him focused before, in a fight, and there was always such beautiful elegance to it but it was nothing like this. On the battlefield it was all rushed and composed, improvised gloriously. Here it was contained and controlled, his hand shaking to get the correct frequency on the chords as he turned the bow over the strings. He had no sheet music before him, just knew the music. 

Glancing over at Kyrie he could see her eyes sparkling, her hands folded, almost like she was in prayer, but it was a different Sparda that she was praying to. She was enrapt. She may not have known the songs but it was the feeling that was inside of them that she was drawn in by. He could see her mind working, trying to place parts of the song, recognizing tunes, internally figuring out how she would sing along if able. He wanted to hear it. He wondered if, after all this, after Vergil came home, he would let her sing while he played. Nero didn't know why he wanted to hear that so badly but at the same time he did, of course. He loved them both so much, of course he wanted them to enjoy what they loved together. 

From his other side there was a bit of brightness and he could see Nico with her phone out, taking photos. He almost reached out and took her phone from her. He knew that people weren't supposed to take photos of these sorts of events but he did want photos. He had so few pictures of Vergil as it was and what he had were very posed, where he was forced into frame for some family bonding. 

His eyes went past Nico over to Dante. It was so hard to see him in the darkness but he was sitting there, not quite blinking even though his eyes were wet, focused on the stage, on his twin. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about this, but he was focused on what Vergil was doing in a way that was very different to Kyrie. His mouth kept opening, as if he were about to speak, but then he'd grit his teeth and inhale. Nero couldn't place his expression or the energy that he was giving off. 

Then there was a switch. It was so fast and jarring that Nero jumped in his skin a bit, turning back to the stage. It was cold, terribly cold, as Vergil took a few steps forward, the violin at his side. The lights went down over the rest of the band, not putting them in darkness but fading them away. Vergil put the violin under his chin and the cold feeling intensified, the surface tension of water rippling over the audience. 

The music was beautiful and flawless, and there was no sign of how difficult it was on Vergil's face for it was difficult. The bow moved slowly, smoothly, as his hand changed, making chords that changed so fluidly. The song wasn't terribly sad, had almost a beat of hope to it, like rays of light through tree branches. It was at complete odds with the way that the room felt. 

And there was more to it, not just Vergil's playing, but Dante. There were waves of energy coming off him as well, tides of empty sorrow, a cold spike that was like ice breaking through glass. It wasn't a sensation that Nero had felt before, Dante never felt sad to him. He often just felt like nothing when there should have been something and Nero meant to talk to him about that but he didn't think that was his place. Now though, the feelings of loss and sorrow were so strong that they brought tears to Nero's eyes. He pulled his gaze from Vergil to see that Dante was shaking, quietly, trying not to let anyone see, as tears poured down his cheeks. 

Dante couldn't leave. He was sitting in the center of them, there was no way that he could get out to either side without drawing attention to himself. Nero didn't understand it but he could tell that this was affecting him. Even the humans could tell, Nico scrunching up her nose and Kyrie wiping at her eyes. They weren't meant to feel demons. Nero had asked Kyrie about it before, she said that she never felt his energy, that she had felt a shadow in The Order's temple but nothing stronger than that, when, to Nero, it had been a heavy and loud shroud that felt like tar under his feet, sucking him in. But this was strong enough to affect the music and to affect those listening. 

He reached over the back of Nico's chair to put his hand on Dante's shoulder. He didn't want to overstep some unknown boundary but he wanted to comfort him, at least a little bit. He wanted to know what was with the song that affected him so; why it affected Vergil so deeply as well. They couldn't talk here though. Rubbing at Dante's shoulder, letting him know he was there, was all that he could do. 

Dante all but crumpled under his touch, pulling away while leaning into it at the same time. This hurt, whatever it was, and it had hurt for a long long time. 

The bow slowed, moving to a stop, and the cold water feel coming off Vergil pulsed and faded in time to the music. When he bowed to the audience it looked as if he was about to collapse. The applause was well warranted this time and it was paired with a standing ovation. The lights flickered back on over the rest of the band and there was a twinkling on Vergil's person, his own tears, matching Dante's, reflecting the stage lights, as well as something else, on his lapel, that was a bright shine. 

Almost the entire audience was standing as they clapped but it was impossible not to notice that Dante remained sitting, looking to the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

There wasn't much time for Vergil to recompose himself backstage before they were all going out into the lobby to meet with the audience. It made sense for most of them, they had people who they knew and would want to shake their hands. Anthony, a cellist, had clasped Vergil on the shoulder though and told him to go out there with them. He didn't want to make it apparent that there was no one there for him and Anthony said that his family would want to meet him too, that his performance was highly emotional and he should try to make the rounds through the audience. 

So he went out there, slicking his hair back as he went, his mind racing. There had been something wrong during his solo and it was still sitting heavy on his mind. He had been filled with sorrow, even though the song wasn't especially sad, but when his emotions were at their strongest he could feel another wave of it, different enough from his own for him to know it wasn't an echo. It was responding to the music, but it was responding to his pain as well. He didn't feel that sort of thing coming from humans, only demons, which meant someone in the audience was pretending to be something they were not. 

The first person he saw when he entered the lobby was Marguerite, wearing a simple red dress with blue flowers on it. She beamed at him and stepped into his path, arm still in its cast at her side. She threw out her opposite hand, and he took it, kissing the back of it. That made her laugh, she must have assumed he would shake it, but the laughter helped his nerves settle. He hadn't even noticed that he was nervous. 

"You did amazingly!" Marguerite beamed. "I'm so glad you were able to take over for me, I truly think you did better than I could have." 

Her pride melted into his heart and he was smiling in response. His mouth opened and he was about to reply to her, when he noticed a flash of white in the crowd.   
White that was high up, white hair, and it was coming towards them. He could feel the energy of a demon rippling off them, anxiety like being late to an important meeting, sorrow like soggy socks, and anger like a dog kicked one time too many. He put his hand on Marguerite's shoulder and pushed her, gently, out of the way of the incoming onslaught. 

Dante. Dante was here. He was clean shaven, his hair was done, and he was dressed well. On his chest, just under his collar was the pink-red gem that had plagued   
Vergil for years, had been the one thing that kept him at all together on Mallet Island, had caused so much bloodshed. He was here and he was pushing through to Vergil and he knew everything. He knew what Vergil was doing when he snuck out of Devil May Cry. He knew that Vergil was still clinging onto his foolish childhood passions. He was grabbing Vergil by the bicep and pulling him forward, pulling him into a hug. 

Dante's arms were strong and solid but not as much as his chest and Vergil immediately filled with this uncomfortable heat. He could feel the ends of himself, the pressure around him holding him together. He could smell his brother's hair, the scent of his sweat and their shared detergent. There was a hand between his shoulder blades and another on the small of his back. 

"Why did you do that, huh?" Dante growled, pulling Vergil in tighter. "Why, of all the songs in the world, did you have to choose that one?" 

Vergil was stiff but slowly, he raised his arms. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to, if he was allowed, to hug Dante back. It had been so long since he'd last tried. He snaked his arms around his brother's torso and there was a light buzzing in his chest, growing around his heart. 

"I didn't choose it." 

"I did." Marguerite interrupted the moment. "You must be Vergil's brother." She caught herself saying Vergil's real name and glanced around but no one seemed to have heard the slip up. "I'm Marguerite, he took over for me when I had my accident." 

Dante pulled away from Vergil, that anger fading away. His hands were still on Vergil, now on his sides, but Vergil wanted to be wrapped up again. He wanted Dante to hold him. He wanted to be cherished and clung to, it made him feel so much more whole. 

"Why didn't you tell me this was what you were doing?" Dante asked. 

Vergil shuffled his feet, watching them. "I never thought you'd believe that this was my intention. And I thought you would think it beneath me." 

"Are you kidding me? You were amazing!" 

"You really were," came another voice, soft, feminine. 

Vergil turned and there were the rest of them, standing there, watching as Dante and he cuddled in the middle of a crowd. They were all dressed nicely, had put an effort into this, for him. He hadn't even told them. 

"How did you know?" 

Nico crossed her arms over her chest. "You didn't make it hard or nothing." 

"You left your schedule on the desk, it had the recital on there." Kyrie smiled up at him. "You were amazing." 

"I was?" 

Nero was at her side, scratching at his neck. "I don't know much about music but I thought you were really good." 

He knew that he was good, there was no question about that; he wouldn't have been asked to cover the solo if he wasn't at least decent at it, but he hadn't expected the others to be so supportive. He felt extremely foolish, all of a sudden, for hiding this part of himself away. He had been so certain though, that he would be a laughing stock for taking up such a hobby. And now they were here, they were listening, they understood that he wasn't going to cause some problem or turn against them. 

On Dante's other side, there was Trish and Lady, staying quiet, staying back. He'd never gotten along well with them and that was always his fault, but they were there too. 

"I wasn't expecting any of you but you two least of all," he admitted to them. 

Lady crossed her arms. Trish had her hands on her hips. They were watching the crowd, giving him some space. 

"Don't blame us," Lady said, "Kyrie bought us tickets before we could say anything."

So they hadn't wanted to come. That was understandable. 

"Well, thank you for taking up some seats then." 

But Trish took a step forward, glaring at Lady as she came closer. "I didn't want to come. I thought you wouldn't want me here. I thought my attendance would do more ill than good; I know we were never friends."

"I'm sorry." 

He glanced around, noted that Marguerite had been pulled aside for a conversation with someone else, and Kyrie was blushing, knowing that she would technically be in trouble for any fighting that came up. 

Trish touched him, her fingers just grazing against his arm to get his attention. "I'm glad I came. You really impressed me, both with your skill and with how you worked with the others, the fact that you were willing to cover for a human. I always thought the best I could do for you was to give you space." 

"I don't know if that's true or not," Vergil admitted, "It hurts my soul to see you, but that is not your fault. I shouldn't hold it against you." 

"Well that's true but I don't blame you for it. I did some really terrible things to you, once upon a time. I know I could never really get past that. But I'd like to try." 

There was a thick feeling in Vergil's throat, an urge to cough, but he knew that wouldn't fix the burning in his eyes or the blush that was burning his cheeks. 

"I'd like that, I think." 

\---

Nero could feel a heavy wool cloak lifted off his shoulders, though he couldn't remember ever putting one on. It wasn't real, anyway, just the energy that Vergil was giving off. It was relief. It was joy. Vergil had been holding this in for so long, was so worried about the judgment of others that he never really had to worry about. 

Now Vergil was smiling, even with his eyes shining, and Kyrie had her arms thrown around Nero, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. This was more than pizza night, this was more than making bets on how long Nico would last after pizza night before her lactose intolerance hit. This was being a family. There was pride around them and, yes, there were a lot of other people in the room, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like it was just them, surrounding his father, bonding in an extremely human way. 

There was something shining on Vergil's lapel and Nero brightened impossibly further, taking a step closer, dragging Kyrie with him. 

"You're wearing it," Nero noted, a hand going to his pocket for his matching blue rose pin. 

Vergil stared at him, everyone else going quiet, and he looked down at his chest, wear the pin sat proudly. "I didn't expect anyone to come. I remembered what you said, that you were proud of me, and it felt so good, in my heart, to impress you so. I wanted your support, not knowing you were willing to give it to me in the flesh." 

Nero pushed forward and, this time, Kyrie let go of him, so he was able to copy Dante's earlier motion in embracing Vergil. He knew that his father loved him, but it was a new and foreign thing, didn't feel quite right for either of them. This was proof, this was loud proof, for anyone to see. And Vergil hugged him back, much more readily, more comfortably, than he had with Dante. They understood each other, having wanted each other for so long and never being able to fill that void, no matter how many proxies they came across. 

"I am proud of you," Nero repeated, "I'm really glad you took that to heart." 

"You're my son and I care about you," Vergil stated it like it was the easiest thing to say and Nero could feel his breathing come in sharper, his heart rate picking up. He'd wanted to hear that for so long and now he had that, had had that for months but it was always buried beneath concepts of responsibility and who they were meant to be. "I love you so much."

Nero pulled away from him, seeing how the crows feet around Vergil's eyes crinkled and his dimples sat on either side of his mouth. He was slightly aware of the artificial click of Nico's phone taking a picture but he didn't stop it. He didn't mind having this documented. 

"I love you too," he said, "I never expected you to be my dad but I'm so glad that you are." 

"We need to celebrate!" Nico piped in. 

"Yes!" Kyrie added, "Champagne and decadence to spoil tonight's star!" 

"I was going to say a big pizza dinner," Dante shrugged. He cringed and pulled away, making an over-exaggerated deal out of Trish elbowing him. "I'm joking! I'm joking!" 

A glass of ice water spilled down Nero's back and Dante must have felt it too because he went still, standing upright, and staring in the same direction Vergil was. Vergil cleared his throat and took a step to the side, away from Nero. He was looking down but even then it was more than not making eye contact with the short dumpy man that was coming up to them. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Gunther, Nero recognized him from the website, said as he interrupted. "Just wanted to congratulate our star personally." 

"I'm not a star," Vergil pointed out, his voice quieter, weaker, than it had been before. Nero felt on edge, but this was just a human, he wasn't a threat. "There were other soloists as well. Anthony, for instance." 

"I've already talked with him," Gunther said and he stepped into their circle, past the rest of them, as if he was purposefully putting himself between them and Vergil. 

"None of their performances hit me like yours did. You were very spectacular." He glanced at the rest of them, "This must be your family then? I thought you said they didn't know about this." 

Nico opened her mouth to say something but Vergil explained first. "They found out on their own. I was very surprised at their attendance." 

Gunther looked at each of them individually. He had a look of disdain to him. Nero wondered just how much he knew about them. He wondered how much he knew about Vergil and why Vergil felt so cold and submissive in his presence. Dante took a step forward and Gunther did as well, even though he was a good foot shorter than him, he came forward like he was going to war. 

"So you must be Tony," Gunther snarled. 

"Yeah? What of it?" 

Vergil took a step forward behind them, reaching out but not saying anything. There was a rise, like when cats are about to fight, static in the air. 

"I heard what you did to Gilver. I know how badly hurt because of it. I don't want you to touch him ever again, you hear me?" Gunther scolded. 

Vergil paled. "I never-

"You're a real piece of work, you hear me?" Gunther pressed a finger against Dante's chest and Dante put his hands up. There were people watching, the sound enough to draw their attention. "In fact I'm disgusted by all of you for letting Tony treat Gilver like this, make him hide his talent from the world! None of you deserve him." 

"It's fine." 

"Don't tell me it's fine," Gunther spun on Vergil, immediately softening, taking Vergil's hands in his own. "You are so much more than they'll ever be. You are worth everything and they weren't willing to give you anything."

"It's not like that." 

"You don't need to defend them anymore," Gunther kept interrupting him, not letting him speak, and that cold feeling was growing in Nero. He wanted to fight Gunther, defend Dante and Vergil both, but he could only guess that that would make things worse, prove Gunther's point. "Come on, you promised me dinner after the show." 

"I didn't." Vergil's voice was still weak as he looked up, looked at Dante and then at Nero. But Gunther had his hand on Vergil's elbow and was leading him out of the lobby, towards the area that the audience couldn't follow. That cold feeling, that dread, grew stronger, and Nero wanted nothing more than to follow after them. 

"I don't like that guy," Kyrie admitted, saying what they were all thinking. 

Lady reached to her side and Nero knew, as of that moment, that she still had at least one gun hidden on her person. "Vergil's in more trouble than I think he knows. We should stop it before it gets worse." 

Dante smiled, the kind of smile he wore when there was a demon the size of a building in his sights. "Now you're speaking my language!"


	15. Chapter 15

He pulled his wrist free with a quick twist. 

"You can't talk to them like that!" he hissed, "You don't know them, you don't understand!" 

"You don't understand!" Gunther turned on him, his anger a flare but the moment he made eye contact with Vergil that rage faded away. He put his hands on Vergil's cheeks, forcing more of that contact. Vergil hated it, there was a huge shiver of dark disgust in him. He didn't like to be touched by people, not unless they loved him. He especially didn't like being touched by Gunther. "They don't love you, not really! They have hurt you and they'll keep hurting you! I've seen this happen, time and time again, they'll show support, they'll act like they care, just to get you to come back. As soon as you feel comfortable with them again this will happen all over again." 

Vergil took a step back, again getting himself free. "You don't know them and you don't know me." 

"I know you," Gunther stepped forward, filling in the space that Vergil had made, "Gilver, I know you so well. We haven't known each other long but I've met so many people like you, people who have suffered like you have, and have become stronger once they were free of that abuse. You have so much to give to the world and they're suffocating you." 

Vergil looked around the room, noticing that they were all alone. Gunther had taken him into a green room on the way out. He suddenly was very aware that the dinner that Gunther had said they were going on was meant to just be the two of them, not a celebration for the group. He was being purposefully isolated from the group, from his family. Gunther had plans for him. 

"You have projected your desires onto me," Vergil shook his head. He turned, heading towards the door. He would go grab his violin from the back and he'd out, find Dante and Nero and the others, and leave with them. He would find another group, keep playing, but with people that didn't trap him like this. "I'm not the man you want me to be."

Gunther wasn't letting him go, wasn't giving him space, wasn't listening. He grabbed Vergil again, turning him, pushing him against the closest wall. He hands were rough, his intent clear in his expression, his desire for Vergil so obvious that it made Vergil's gut twist. He hated that internal conflict, that need to be loved in a way his family couldn't love him mixed with his need to be far away, to not be touched, to keep himself safe. He didn't want anyone to get in. Gunther had a pick ax. 

"You keep putting yourself on pedestals, you keep putting yourself above mortals," Gunther breathed against his neck, "You think you're so out of reach, a god among the rest of us. You aren't untouchable, you aren't too much, you are worthy of worship but not this distance. You need the touch of a humble human being." 

His hands were in Vergil's lapels, he leaned forward, rubbing his chest against Vergil's abdomen, pinned Vergil to the wall with his hips so that he could free his hands and run them down Vergil's sides. Vergil bit his lip, feeling the sparks of that touch, his body responding, wanting it, wanting more. 

He felt cold, like ice was growing up his sides, spreading through his arms. He flexed his hand and Yamato was there, the closest thing he'd ever had to a constant, his biggest support. He held her tightly as Gunther pressed forward, pressed kisses against Vergil's throat, each one leaving a cold and heavy mark that fell into the pit of nausea that was filling him. 

Vergil grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him away. It was the first time he had. He was panting, trying to take control of himself, of the situation. He didn't want Gunther's kisses. He didn't want Gunther's company. He wanted to get away. 

"What the fuck?" Gunther's eyes went wide, staring at Yamato. "Where did you get that?" 

"Don't touch me," Vergil gasped. He didn't draw the blade, he didn't fight him, he didn't know what to do. He wanted Gunther to leave him alone, but he didn't want to kill him. He was just one man, it should have been easy to kill him, but that was the problem. He was a stupid little mortal, ruled by his desires. He was insignificant, weak, he couldn't defend himself against something like Vergil. 

If Vergil killed him it would be a lot of steps back. He would be the monster. He would be the killer that Dante was so worried that he would return to being. He'd worked so hard at understanding people, at caring, at seeing them as more than just tiny nuisances. He couldn't let himself fail now, to give in. 

"You tell me not to touch you," Gunther continued, "Yet when I do you react so pleasantly. When I kiss you I can feel the fear of letting someone in but also the desire for more. You want this but you don't want to want this. You're terrified of letting someone in." 

It was true. He didn't know what he wanted. His skin wanted Gunther, wanted to be held, wanted to be touched, craved the pleasure of contact. He didn't know what he wanted but he was so terrified of being opened up and revealed. 

"I can give you what you want," Gunther pressed, "Put the sword away and let me show you?" 

He thought about it. He didn't have much time to and he was holding Yamato to his chest, cradling it, trying to keep himself from fleeing or fighting. That just left frozen. He could tell that his lip was shaking. Gunther was so tenacious. He didn't know the right course of action. He wondered, if he just let it happen, if he would learn to enjoy it, if it would be better than fighting, if he would like it. 

He didn't know what to do. 

\---

They just stood there, staring at each other. Gunther had it all wrong but Dante hadn't fought him, hadn't really stood his ground, but this was a public space. Dante was a lot smarter than he liked to show himself to be though, he knew that arguing it wouldn't help, that it would draw too much attention, that that attention would hurt Vergil. Kyrie had put her hand on Dante's back tried to soothe him, but he didn't respond, he didn't say anything. 

Not that that mattered. Nero could feel it, little black ants in his brain. Part of him wished that he couldn't feel the presence of demons, couldn't feel his relative's emotions. He didn't want to know that Dante's mind was racing, that he was eating himself up, if he was terrified that Gunther had been speaking the truth, that Vergil did truly feel that way. Dante was afraid that he'd been hurting Vergil all this time. Nero knew that he hadn't been, but he also knew that Vergil had always been nervous, holding himself back, around Dante, and that the argument that made Vergil leave could be misconstrued by an external party. 

The way that Vergil had reacted to Gunther made him uncomfortable though. He was more anxious around him than he'd ever been around Dante. It wasn't a feeling that Nero wanted to feel. 

But then there was a worse feeling. Nausea riding through the lobby on a tide of ice. Chilling horror, coming out through panic. Dante's emotions faded, his self hatred fading, as he focused on that sensation. 

He pushed past Kyrie, gently, and headed in the direction Gunther had led Vergil. 

"What's twisted his little lacy panties?" Nico asked, watching Dante go. 

Nero turned on his heel, hurrying to catch up. "Stay here! We'll be right back." 

He didn't look to make sure they were doing as he asked. Whatever was going on, if Vergil was giving off those vibes, he wouldn't want whatever was happening to be displayed to the others. He did a little half run to catch up with Dante as he was clearly trying not to trickster forward, was doing hsi best to pass as human. 

"You feel it too?" Dante asked between grit teeth. 

"Yeah," Nero explained, "Not as strongly as you, I bet, but well enough." 

"I don't like this guy." 

"Me neither." 

They ignored the looks, the signs, designed to keep them out from the performer only back area. They didn't even need a map to figure out where Vergil was, it was so clear, the feeling this strong sharp pain, thrumming. It was constantly shifting, the ice melting and being replaced sand and then the cool of mint instead of ice and then back to that frigid anxiety. None of the sensations were good. 

Dante kicked the door to the greenroom open and pushed inside, Nero right on his heels. 

All of those feeling froze solid. 

Vergil was against the wall, so pale, shaking, but not fighting. He had every right to be fighting and Nero could see that he was close to doing so. Yamato had fallen to the ground, abandoned in a way Nero had never seen it. Vergil was staring at them from where he was pressed, one leg hoisted up and around Gunther's hip, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. 

Gunther was also staring, though his face was more angry than surprised. He was shoved so close to Vergil that it couldn't have been comfortable for either of them. One of his hands was under Vergil's jacket, messing with the buttons of his shirt. 

And the room was engulfed in the flames of Dante's rage. 

"Let him go!" Dante snarled as he grabbed Gunther by the arm and pulled him away from Vergil. He didn't bother to hide his strength, sending Gunther half across the room before he lost his footing and fell to the ground. 

Without the support Vergil slid down against the wall, his legs no longer able to support him. Nero wasn't needed for Gunther, he was nothing, just a single human, who was blind to the needs of others. Nero went to Vergil, expecting to just stand between him and Gunther, but Vergil reached for him. Nero let him, let Vergil wrap his arms around him and pull him in. He could feel the speed of Vergil's heart, too fast, too strong, to be human, and the way that Vergil was shaking. He held Nero so tightly that, if he was any less demon, his ribs would break. And Vergil's face was buried in his neck. 

"It's okay," Nero told him, holding him, running his hand across Vergil's back, "We're going to go home. Everything's going to be okay." 

There was a yelp and Nero pulled away, just enough to see Dante shove his sword through Gunther's chest. Blood spurted up and out of him, up the blade, from the wound and from his mouth. Nero turned back to Vergil, held him tighter, made sure he didn't see. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. He knew the answer. It was obvious, but he had to ask it. 

Vergil shook his head, pulling him closer. 

"You want to leave?" 

Vergil nodded. 

Nero let go of him to reach out and grab Yamato. He brought it closer and Vergil snatched it out of his hand, holding it close to his body. Nero changed his hold on his father and stood up, bringing Vergil with him. For a moment it felt like before, like Nero was helping up a broken and crumbling visage who's body could no longer support him. He shifted his hold so that he had an arm supporting Vergil's shoulder on the opposite side of him.

He took out his phone and typed in a simple message to Nico. 

[11:21pm Nero] Get the van ready. 

"I'm sorry," Vergil murmured, so quiet that Nero wasn't sure that he'd heard it at all. "I think I ruined the evening." 

"Nah," Nero jostled Vergil's elbow, making him lean against Nero further. "That was some asshole's fault. Let's get a rain check on champagne and all that, yeah?"  


Vergil nodded. He just wanted to go home, Nero was sure.


	16. Chapter 16

The drive home was quiet, even Nico wasn't talking that much, though she tried to make a joke once or twice, to lighten the mood. It was his fault. They'd come out to support him and now there was this mess, this terrible anxiety, and he'd brought it on. Dante made a call to Morrison from the passenger seat but Vergil couldn't pay attention to what he was saying. Dante was smoldering though, he could feel hot coals of his anger still permeating the air. Nero was warm though, fresh linens out of the wash, to his right and Vergil didn't know if that was real or if Nero was putting on a front that was strong enough for him to feel. Still, he spread his legs a little wider and let his knee press against his son's. Nero gave him a small sad smile at that. 

On his left was Trish. She wasn't touching him, just staring straight ahead, but there was a change in her body language, she was holding herself in a way that he'd never seen from this angle. He'd seen it before, sure, but that was when they'd first met after the Qliphoth. At that point this posing was used against him, when she casually stepped between him and Lady. He didn't even know Lady's real name then and the fact that he'd called her what her father had had sparked anger, not to mention they were already opposed to one another. Trish had shielded her. Now she was shielding him, even though the threat was over. 

She didn't know what the threat even was. Only Dante and Nero did. Nero had texted Nico and the three of them had left via the back, Nero taking Vergil's phone to text Marguerite. He'd said that she was going to collect his violin and bring it to Devil May Cry when she had the chance. They were making sure that things were kept quiet, that no one would notice that he was missing, that his reputation was secure. 

When they reached home Kyrie helped Vergil up from his seat, even though he didn't need it, and she wrapped her arm in his, guiding him, a nice warm pressure at his side. Lady held the door open for him. The shop was cold and dark but came back to its luster once Dante turned on the lights. There was a bit more clutter than when Vergil left but it wasn't too much and the garbage cans needed to be emptied, there was a fine film of dust settling again. 

He made some excuse and pulled out of Kyrie's hold, making it up the stairs and then shutting himself in the bathroom. He ran the shower. He stripped out of his suit and laid it out on the counter, placing Yamato gingerly on top. He stepped into the water. He shivered. He broke. 

He let himself crumble under the spray, sobbing, shoulders shaking. He was so weak, after everything that had happened, he was still so weak. He had the power that he always wanted and he had the strength to do what he wanted but he was still so weak when it came to defending himself. He could always fight Dante because he didn't think about himself in those moments. But if someone wanted to control him, if he was told to obey, he would do so without a thought. He had fallen for it, again, as if he'd never learned a thing from his years separating himself from Mundus' control. 

He was going to let Gunther have him. He almost had. He couldn't do a thing about it. He couldn't. If he had. He would have been the monster. Dante had been so worried about him going back, being the evil that he'd shown in the past. He knew that killing was evil. But Dante had killed. 

He bristled, his despair, his disgust in himself turning to rage. He couldn't understand it, he was disgusted by it. He was being held to a higher standard than Dante was and Dante didn't even know everything, he had no context. He just came in and murdered Gunther, when Vergil was giving him a chance. 

In his anger he shut off the shower, not bothering with actually washing himself. It was just the water that he'd needed anyway. He threw his pants back on, grabbed Yamato, and raced down the stairs, to where Dante was making coffee for everyone and there was this short curt conversation, no one knowing what to say or how loud they could be. All sorts of uncomfortable. Vergil did know what to say, how loud to be. 

Dante barely had time to set the pot down before Vergil had his hands in his lapels, pulling him from the group and into the more spacious lobby. 

"How dare you?" he hissed, releasing Dante for the hilt of Yamato instead. "You murdered him!" 

"Like you didn't want me to!" Dante growled. "He had you up against the wall, Vergil, you were terrified! I couldn't just stand there and let him do that!" 

"It wasn't your place to decide that! And how dare you be able to kill a human when I'm not!" It came out as a snarl and he tried to ignore the tears dripping down his cheeks, hoping they would just appear to be drops of water from his hanging hair. "You made me feel like I was a monster for what I'd done, and you were right! I am a monster. But you don't get to pretend to be so much better than me when you'd do the same! If you thought you had to, you would kill just as I have!" 

"You're right," Dante dropped his stance, his reactive anger, and stood up straight. "You're right, I would do the same, I would kill every human that got in my way if I had to, but I would do it for you. Do you understand that? I killed him because I wanted you safe. I would kill so many for that. I never thought that you were evil for killing, you were selfish for it, your motivations were twisted and you didn't think of the consequences. When I saw Gutnher hurting you I couldn't just stand by. I couldn't let it keep going. I'm so scared, all the time, that something will come along your path and make you change your mind about this, about us, and lead you to get hurt again."

Vergil was shaking. He didn't want to back down. He didn't want to believe what Dante was saying. Still, he dropped his arms, Yamato shaking in his fist. 

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, "I thought I was stronger than this. I thought I'd found my power." 

Dante was touching him, a hand on his jaw, a hand on his shoulder. He got on his tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to Vergil's forehead. "You have," Dante explained, draggin his hand down to put it over Vergil's horribly human heart. "You have all the power you've ever needed and more. You just need to learn how to use it. So far, your power has only mattered in protecting those you love and you haven't loved us for very long. You need to use it to protect yourself too. You need to love yourself." 

Never before had Dante made so much sense. It was strange, it was wrong. Dante was supposed to be foolish, childish, and yet he was here making so much sense. He'd never cared for himself, he'd never even accepted himself. It was so much easier to be the outsider, but he couldn't care about himself like this. 

\---

He couldn't stop fretting. Even when Vergil thought he had to fight Dante, he was there, just on the outskirts, ready to step in. He didn't want to get involved; these were some obviously personal reasons for Vergil and Dante to fight, but he didn't want them to fight at all. That was what had started all of this in the first place. 

Now Vergil was sitting with them, drinking coffee, being wholly present for long periods of time before going silent and staring into his cup. He didn't have much to say, but he was responsive and that was something. He even laughed at one of Nico's jokes, which may have been an overreaction seeing as how most her jokes got a small chuckle or half of a smile from him. Dante got him a shirt from the laundry at one point and seeing him in a faded Dead Devil's Dance shirt was just as strange as seeing him without a shirt at all. 

He had scars. Nero wasn't expecting that. There were small ones, little pin pricks around his shoulders, and a few small lines, crisscrossing over his chest. Under each pectoral there was a deep and garish scar, bright pink against his pale skin. There was even a concave scar just to the left of his belly button. He wanted to know about them. He didn't know how to ask and this wasn't the place for it. 

Nero had scars too, but they all happened before he'd devil triggered the first time. After that any new wound closed up without a sign that there was ever any damage. His new arm didn't even have any scars on it. The old ones had remained though. He wondered if Vergil had been late to triggering as well or if there were things that could leave scars on them. 

A knock on the door and both Trish and Dante were up and heading for it. Nero was a little bit slower and, as he passed by Vergil he was surprised by how Vergil reached out and took his hand, keeping him from following. He wanted Nero there and that put a lump in Nero's throat. He never thought that Vergil would need him, not like he'd always needed his father. 

The conversation from the front room was fairly quiet but all became clear when the pair returned with an older woman in tow, her arm in a cast, holding a violin case with the other. She looked normal, a bit frantic, but in a very human way. 

"So, this is the family," she chuckled under her breath. 

Vergil released Nero and stood up, going to her. "Marguerite." 

She took a step back, looking him over. "No way. No, this can't be Vergil. A t-shirt? Your hair down? I heard there was some drama after the show but this is too much." 

At that he swiped his hair back where it normally sat. "Better?" 

"Better." She smiled at him, her expression so soft and caring. It was a maternal look and Nero's heart ached. That question he'd had, that he wanted to ask Vergil about came back to him. He wondered if there would ever be a good time for him to ask about his own mother. "Are you alright though?" 

"I'm alright," Vergil said but Nero could feel the stress in it. 

"Can I touch you?" 

Nero stared at her. That was a strange question, not one that he'd ever heard before. Definitely not one he'd ever thought to ask. Vergil nodded though and she hugged him, holding him close. He reciprocated, faster than he had with Dante and Nero's heart ached. He wanted to hug him as well, he realized, but he rarely even let himself touch Vergil. He was too above him, too much more than human. But here Vergil was melting into the touch, he really needed it, and he was so much more human than he wanted to show. 

They spoke with each other in hushed tones. Nero tried to give them privacy, to fall back into the conversation with Dante and the others. They were talking about a hunt coming up, strategizing, as if everything that had happened tonight was just a mild distraction. Kyrie took his hand though, the one that Vergil had held, and squeezed it in her lap. 

"I want to talk to him," Nero admitted, quietly in her ear.

"You should. Give him a few minutes." 

He nodded. Kyrie always knew him so well, and had good advice. He ended up waiting until Marguerite grew tired and promised to visit again, making Vergil swear to come by as well. Vergil started to clean up, picking up everyone's coffee mugs, and Nero picked up more of them, no reason for him to carry seven on his own. He didn't say anything until they were in the kitchen, just the two of them. 

"Are you really alright?" he started with. 

Vergil nodded, then he bit his lip, watching the water soak into the mugs. "I don't know. I think I am, or that I will be, but Dante was correct. There are things in my past that have controlled me, that I was not strong enough to fight, and Gunther did the same. He was just a human, he had no power over me, but I couldn't fight him. I kept making excuses as to why I couldn't." 

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm here, huh? To protect you?" 

Vergil bit his lip. He tipped his head back and inhaled. Nero's hands itched. 

"You shouldn't have to protect me. I'm your father, it's my job to protect you." 

Nero bumped him, shoulder to shoulder, and paid attention to how Vergil was feeling. He felt warm, not fighting the gentle jostling. "I protected myself for twenty four years. I think I've got that under control." 

A sour note in that warmth. "I never wanted you to have to protect yourself. I never wanted you to grow up alone. I thought that I was protecting you but you ended up by yourself, a lost and lonely boy with no understanding of why he was different."

"Takes one to know one, I'm guessing?" 

"Yes." 

"Hey," Nero lifted his arm to wrap it around Vergil's shoulders but he waited a moment, waited until Vergil gave him a slight nod, before settling it. "We didn't have the childhoods that we wanted. Or the lives that we wanted. But we're here now. And we're together." 

"There is that, yes. I'm glad you don't think less of me." 

"For what happened tonight? No. In general? Yeah, you're a bit of a shit. But we all are. We're working on it." 

Vergil stopped his work for a moment and gave a long, drawn out sigh. He turned to make eye contact with Nero, his green eyes ever soft when he looked at him. "Thank you, again, for having me. For accepting me like I am. I know I haven't made it easy."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," Nero waved him off. "Just don't be a stranger. I want to know about you, like everything." 

Vergil chuckled. "Trust me, you don't want to know everything." 

"Okay, I want to know a lot," Nero corrected. "I think we may have a lot more in common than you think." 

"Let's talk then, all night if you wish." 

"I do wish," Nero admitted. "I wish that a lot."

And Vergil's smile was the most honest he'd ever seen it as he cleaned out the coffee pot and set the maker up for a whole other pot. This was going to take a while.


End file.
